The quest for the perfect grilled cheese sandwich

Greetings, friends! It’s been some months since my last post, and I’ve done quite a bit of traveling since. I have a positively daunting backlog of reviews to write. (Including a couple GC destinations you might have actually heard of!) The one below was enjoyed last summer, but I can still taste it. Get here, if you can.

“Apple Pie Grilled Cheese: Cheddar cheese topped with apple butter, sliced apples, and grilled on cracked wheat bread.”

 I’d been anxious to try this one ever since the owner mentioned it during my last visit, but just couldn’t seem to get there. Finally, headed up to the cabin one saturday, I placed a calculated call from hwy 17. (It’s very important to time these things - styrofoam does terrible things grilled sandwiches.) I was also sort of starving, which always helps add a point or two to a sandwich score. It turned out, though, this one didn’t need any extra credit. It. Was. Amazing. For some of you, the whole cheddar cheese on apple pie thing might be old news, but I’ve still never had it. I’ve never even had apple butter – come to think of it. (If anything, this proves what I’ve been saying for years – cheese is good on fucking everything.) That said, this is a fine example of a sandwich being greater than the sum of it’s parts, because each part was perfect: abundant cheese, REAL apples, and scrumptious bread. Although the menu just calls this cracked wheat bread - it was something special. It was straight up buttery, with some kind of sugary crunch buried in it. I was only about a half mile down the road with the first half of it stuffed in my mouth when I knew. Ten. This thing is a ten.

“Ham & Cheddar Panini,” at “Deli-licious.”

If you’re looking for something to make you feel better after losing 40 perfectly good dollars in a slot called the “Amazing Money Machine” at 1am on a tuesday morning, you should probably stick to schadenfreude, or maybe nachos. However, if you’re looking for the genuine casino experience, and the hissing oxygen tanks, stench of failure and loneliness, and pocket of ATM receipts doesn’t quite get you there - the Stockbridge-Munsee band of Mohican Indians now brings you delicious, gas-station-fresh sandwiches. Seemingly pressed with dry heat and the weight of a large, glassy-eyed elderly woman, I suspect this little gamble could be broken back down into its original parts by throwing it up in the air. I gave it a 2, which is the same number of times I (unsuccessfully) attempted to pass it through the bill accepter. ($2.75)

“Southwestern Grilled Cheese: Grilled sourdough with melted hot pepper and sharp cheddar cheeses, topped with our house-made salsa.”

I was headed out of state a few weeks ago, and quite eager to put another pin down in Minnesota. (As one would expect, initial scouting turned up quite a few intriguing prospects in the cities.) As I discovered though, not all brand of travel companion are easily sold on a twenty mile deviation from the route for a “cheese sandwich.” Pfffffffffffft. 

Whatever, mom.

SO instead, I had to settle for Barker’s in Hudson - a ”more reasonable” 2.5 blocks off highway 94. Ok, maybe it wasn’t really settling - both the sandwich and the restaurant did seem worthy of a stop. Hudson *is* the Gateway to Wisco after all…and I’m a big fan of salsa and peppered cheeses. Fortunately, I’m a big fan of bruschetta too, because that’s really a better classification for their “house-made salsa.” Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy the sandwich. It was tasty and well-made, well-melted, and generously proportioned. All that aside, it certainly contained nothing “southwestern” enough to warrant the deceptively zesty name. (I don’t like being lied to, Barker.) I couldn’t really stay mad, though. It was a rad little town, a good restaurant, and they made DELICIOUS french fries. I gave it a 7. 

($7.95)

“The Chicken Bacon Melt: Crispy bacon, lightly-breaded chicken and melted swiss.”

I wound up at this unassuming family restaurant a couple weeks ago; (pretty much the quintessential, locally-owned-and-badly-named, in the still recognizable body of a failed chain) and was pleasantly surprised to find this little beast. Actually, once I saw the size of their menu, I was feeling pretty lucky – this thing had to be like, 6 full pages of laminated possibilities. Victory. 

Well, I can’t lie. It was downright scrumptious. Big and crunchy, delightfully salty, and abundantly cheesed: everything a good grilled sandwich should be. Well played, Friendship House. You earned a meritable 8/10. (Ok, barely an 8, but an 8′s an 8, right?)  *slow clap*   ($6.95)

“Grilled Cheese: American on sourdough.”

I was pretty happy with myself for scoring a grilled cheese respite on a day trip to Iola (population 1229,) and even more pleased to find one that served a dozen varieties of gelato. As I understand, this place has some historic value as well, although I don’t claim to know all the facts, as their website is a little bit feckless. (Is it a museum? A gift shop? Restaurant? Who can tell.) Anyway, it’s a charming little place with friendly service, eclectic decor, and greets its guests like this:

There is something to be said for first impressions.

Although their menu carried a bevy of promising grilled cheese prospects, (my accomplice had a pretty creative hawaiian panini with bacon, onion and pineapple)  for whatever reason, I decided to test the least redeeming of these. Say what you will, I still think the grilled cheese with the fewest ingredients can be the most delicious, and also the hardest to get right. In this case, unfortunately, less was not more. Admittedly, I was pretty charmed by the curious little nubbins on the bread crust - but as lunches go, it was pretty mediocre. Off-putting, too, was the unending stream of sax-y, Kenny G muzak, which (coupled with fact that the place was otherwise empty,) somehow made me feel like I was on an awkward first date. I gave the sandwich a 5, and the gelato a 7. Worth a visit, so long as you’re ordering the gelato, or sandwiches with a 4-ingredient minimum. ($3.95)

Greetings, grilled cheese friends. Here we are, on this, the very last day of Grilled Cheese Month. I offer you this humble and belated review in exchange for your forgiveness – for what has surely been a gross mishandling of comfort food’s finest holiday. I have paid proper homage to neither GC day or GC month, and you deserve much, much better, dear readers. Both of you. 

“2010 winner of the Grilled Wisconsin Cheese Recipe contest. Wisconsin Sarvecchio Parmesan Crusted Grilled Cheese: wheat bread with pesto, Wisconsin Swiss & Cheddar, sliced roma tomato, then finished with winning Wisconsin Parmesan cheese grilled on the outside.”

Behold, the winning submission in the grilled cheese contest held in Eagle River this past August. Soda Pop’s boasts being one of the oldest operating soda fountains in Wisconsin. Perhaps more noteworthy, though, is their adjacent retail space, offering 150+ varieties of old-timey bottled soda. (Probably one of the few places in the midwest one can still actually peruse these gems in person.) We wandered in at 2:00 on a saturday, eight of us. They were reasonably busy, so we split ouselves in two groups. Still. There. Was. Waiting. Although the boy who waited on us was earnestly apologetic about his own service – it was hilariously clear that he wasn’t holding himself accountable for it. After all, he couldn’t possibly be expected to provide adequate service under these conditions. (I mean, have you SEEN all these people??)

If you’ve read any of my past reviews, you may have picked up on the fact that I’m not all that keen on tomatoes. Despite my aversion, I’ve been trying to make a sincere effort to order more items “as-is.” (As much to broaden my own horizons, as to support the “integrity” of the process. Frankly, if you removed the word ‘without’ from my vocabulary, I would sometimes be hard-pressed to order a meal.) Perhaps predictably, both juicy slices still landed right back into the bottom of the basket after only one bite. Just couldn’t do it. Sadly, even after that wrong was righted, it still didn’t come together for me. The parmesan crust offered a promising texture that unfortunately, the rest of the sandwich just didn’t deliver on. Neither slice of cheese was melted, and the pesto that I was so optimistic about left much to be desired. Ultimately, I just have to believe something was lost in translation here. If this sandwich truly did justice to the original, it must have been one hell of a contest. After our meal, a thirty minute wait for our bills ensued, during which we joked that after they were paid, we could just ask for the menus back and order dinner. I gave it a 5/10, and a “Meh.”  I will be back for the soda.  ($5.95)

“Unbelievable Raspberry Grilled Cheese: Two slices of sourdough bread with seedless red raspberry preserves, swiss cheese, onion, and pecans.”

I found this little oddity while conducting a google search to drum up some blog prospects in Eagle River. Among the usual fluff, a review popped up on Trip Advisor, using some words not typically befitting of a grilled cheese sandwich description. Taking into account my not caring much for jellies or preserves of any sort, and that I generally find nuts to be disruptive - I cannot account for my inexplicable optimism about eating this. (I probably found the eccentricity a little refreshing after the long run of boring grilled cheeses I’ve eaten lately.) Regardless of the reason, I found both the sandwich and the cafe pretty charming. Mind you, the sandwich was as dainty as the soup & sandwich plate it arrived on, most of the raspberry filling was smack dab in the center, and “unbelievable” is a probably a stretch. That said, the big slab of swiss was exactly right, the nuts didn’t really bother me all that much, and diced onions made brilliant sense. After a lot of back and forth, I ultimately forgave its size and inconsistency and gave it a seven. (I’m a sucker for cute dishes, it’s a sickness.)  

($6.95)

I had an hour and forty minutes on the ground in the Detroit airport, and managed to rustle up a grilled cheese in the McNamara Terminal. I had never heard of National Coney Island before, but a quick google revealed that they have 20 locations throughout Michigan. (Something about this seems less than “National” to me, but apparently no one’s policing this.) I was pretty hungry, so it kind of hit the spot. Truthfully though, it offers nothing special. It had a nice crunch on it, but whatever they grilled it with wasn’t all that tasty.  I gave it a 5, and as my mom is apt to say, “Well, I would eat it if I was starving…”   5/10