Croque Monsieur Made Simple

Christmas week. The final push. I have been cooking since dawn every day this week and I will cook until Christmas Day and then I will cook some more because that is what December demands and that is what I provide. The pernil went into the marinade on Wednesday — a whole pork shoulder, stabbed with a knife to make deep pockets, then stuffed with a paste of garlic, oregano, black pepper, olive oil, and vinegar. Twenty-four hours in the refrigerator. Then six hours in the oven at 350, covered, then uncovered for the last hour to crisp the skin. The skin is everything, mi amor. The cuero. Crispy, salty, golden. People fight over the cuero at my table. I have seen grown adults lose their dignity over a piece of crispy pork skin and I am proud to be the cause of that loss.

Sofia is on winter break and she has been in the kitchen with me every day, which is unusual and wonderful and I am not questioning it because questioning a teenager generosity is like questioning rain — you just accept it and be grateful. She has been helping with the pasteles assembly for the second December batch. Her folding technique has improved. She still ties the string too loose but I am not going to tell her that because she is HERE, in my kitchen, her hands in the masa, and that is worth a hundred loose strings.

Miguel Jr. and Jenny are coming for Christmas Day. Rosa is driving from New Haven. David is coming from Brooklyn — he took the week off from the restaurant, which I told him was a terrible career move and he said, Mami, I am coming home for Christmas, stop being a manager. He is right. I am not his manager. I am his mother. The two roles feel similar sometimes.

I called Mami today and we talked about Christmas in Bayamon — the pasteles assembly line in the kitchen, all seven of us children helping, Abuela Consuelo supervising from her chair, Papi playing music in the living room. I told her I miss those Christmases. She said, You are making the same Christmas, Carmen. Different city, same love. Make the food, Carmen. The food is the Christmas. Everything else is decoration.

She is right. The food is the Christmas. The pernil marinating in the refrigerator. The pasteles in the freezer. The coquito in the blender. The arroz con gandules in the pot. The flan setting in its mold. This is Christmas — not the tree, not the lights, not the gifts. The food. The table. The people you feed. The love made visible, edible, unforgettable. One more week, mi amor. One more week until the table is full and the house is loud and everything smells like garlic and everything feels like home.

All week I am feeding everyone else — the pernil, the pasteles, the arroz con gandules — and somewhere in the middle of all of that, I have to feed myself too, mi amor. On the days Sofia is beside me in the kitchen and we finally stop to breathe, this is what I make us: a Croque Monsieur, simple and golden and done in twenty-five minutes, because the cook deserves something warm and beautiful too. The ham reminds me that pork, in all its forms, is always the answer — Christmas week or not.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 slices thick white sandwich bread or brioche
8 oz thinly sliced ham
6 oz Gruyère cheese, shredded (about 1 1/2 cups), divided
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for spreading
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup whole milk, warmed
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

Instructions

Make the béchamel. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt 2 tablespoons butter. Whisk in the flour and cook for 1 minute until pale golden. Gradually whisk in the warm milk, stirring constantly until the sauce thickens, about 3–4 minutes. Season with nutmeg, salt, and pepper. Remove from heat and stir in 1/4 cup of the shredded Gruyère. Set aside.
Preheat and prep the bread. Preheat your broiler to high. Lightly butter one side of each bread slice. Place all 8 slices buttered-side-up on a baking sheet and broil for 1–2 minutes until just golden. Watch closely — they go fast.
Assemble the sandwiches. Flip all slices over. Spread Dijon mustard on 4 of the slices. Layer ham evenly over the mustard slices, then top with a generous handful of Gruyère. Press the remaining 4 bread slices on top, toasted-side up.
Top with béchamel. Spoon the béchamel sauce generously over the top of each assembled sandwich. Sprinkle the remaining Gruyère evenly over the sauce.
Broil until golden and bubbling. Return the baking sheet to the broiler and cook for 3–5 minutes, until the cheese on top is melted, bubbling, and spotted golden brown. Watch carefully to prevent burning.
Rest and serve. Let the sandwiches rest for 2 minutes before serving — the béchamel will be extremely hot. Serve open-faced or sliced in half. A simple green salad alongside is all you need.

Nutrition (per serving)

Croque Monsieur Made Simple — A Cook’s Reward in the Middle of the Holiday Rush