- Okay, everything we need for our escape is right here
in the Monte Cristo sandwich.
I'll remove it from the baggie
and just lightly touch the grease-soaked bread
to the sheets.
- Wow. And gross.
- Next, we use the jam.
(screaming)
- Wow, that's strong jam.
- [Babish] Hey, what's up guys?
Welcome back to "Binging with Babish"
where this week we're taking a look
at the Monte Cristo sandwich from "American Dad."
The classic iteration of which beginning
with two slices of white bread,
one side smeared with equal parts mayo and mustard,
the other with curiously strong raspberry jam,
and both shingled with Swiss-style cheese.
Then the figurative meat of our sandwich is actual meat,
ham and turkey folded in half and staggered
so as to provide a stable,
yet varied sandwich yield foundation.
This would probably be a lovely snack in and of itself,
but we're only now just getting started
as we make a quick custard out of equal parts egg and milk,
and dipping the sandwich in both sides
as if it were common French toast.
Once both slices have been sufficiently saturated,
we're headed over to the stove top
where we've got a couple tablespoons of unsalted butter
foaming in a non-stick pan.
Here, it's gonna fry two to three minutes on each side
until it's a lacy, toasty golden brown.
Once the second side is nearly done frying,
I like to turn down the heat and cover up the works,
gently cooking for an additional two to three minutes
to make sure the sandwich is heated through
and the cheese is melted.
And with that, we're ready to serve.
Shuffle it onto a plate, saw the dang thing in half,
and sprinkle it generously with powdered sugar.
Supplementing with additional raspberry jam
if you feel so inclined.
Now, before I dig in this thing,
I want to do one experiment
to see if one of Stan Smith's spy tricks actually works.
Using powdered sugar to detect a laser security grid.
As a surrogate, I have this cat shaped cat's toy
across whose beam I'm gonna puff the sugar.
And as you can see, it does sort of work.
I can't say it'd be much use in a clandestine escape,
but I do like it when cartoon things work in real life.
But what about the sandwich and well, it's a Monte Cristo.
It's equal parts delicious and gross if you can't tell
from the powdered sugar cascading down from my beard.
So how do we make ourselves an amped up version?
And my first thought was
to make a Monte Cristo Pate En Croute
I've got 12 ounces of fatty pork shoulder,
which I'm gonna cut into grind-appropriate 1/2-inch cubes.
I've also got half a pound of high quality panchetta
that I'm gonna cut into similarly sized cubes
along with a half pound of turkey's breast.
These, however, are going to remain whole
becoming the hunks of meat and fat
so often adorning the interior of a pate en croute,
which is a word that I like to say.
Last bit of prep over on the stove top.
We're melting one tablespoon of butter until foamy
and gently sauteing half a small chopped shallot
until softened, about three minutes.
Then in the last 30 seconds of cooking
were crushing one clove of garlic in there
and allowing it to cook just until fragrant.
Then we're deglazing the pan
with two tablespoons of white wine,
allowing that to cook for one minute until reduced,
and allowing the mixture to cool completely
before assembling our pate.
Into a large bowl,
I am grinding the aforementioned fatty pork
and to it I am adding one tablespoon
of finely minced fresh sage,
two teaspoons of finely minced fresh thyme.
And then we're making a spice mixture
of nine grams kosher salt, four grams sugar,
one gram freshly ground black pepper,
half a gram of white pepper,
and 2.25 grams of pink curing salt.
Tiny whisk to combined and sprinkle evenly over the meat.
Then we're adding cubed turkey breast
and panchetta to the mix,
along with our cooled shallot, butter, garlic, wine mixture
and, to class up the joint,
one ounce each Madeira and Cognac.
Mixing everything together by hand
until all the spices and meat chunks
are distributed evenly throughout.
Place this into a more size and fridge-appropriate bowl,
press plastic wrap directly down
onto the surface of the meat, wrap tightly,
and refrigerate for 24 hours.
Next up, we're making hot water crust pastry.
I'm adding one tablespoon of kosher salt
to one kilogram of all-purpose flour.
Then over on the stove top in a small sauce pan,
I'm combining 250 grams of lard with 500 grams of water.
Bringing this mixture to a bare simmer
until all lard is melted.
Letting it cool off ever so slightly
before dumping it into the flour mixture.
Immediately starting to mix with a wooden spoon
until a shaggy dough forms
and it becomes cool enough to handle
with your delicate human fingers.
Turn it out onto a countertop
and knead for four to five minutes
until the dough comes together.
It's smooth, bouncy, supple, and workable.
But then we're gonna place this in a bowl,
cover tightly with plastic wrap,
and let it rest at room temperature for 20 minutes.
Then we're retrieving the alien blob,
cutting off about a third of it and setting it aside
wrapped in plastic wrap.
The remainder of which we're gonna roll out to a rectangle
about 14 inches long, 10 1/2 inches wide,
and 1/4 inch thick, more or less.
Then we're grabbing our very favorite
8 1/2 inch by 4 1/2 inch loaf pan,
generously greasing it with non-stick spray,
and then gently tucking the dough inside.
Taking care to lift and drop the dough into the pan
rather than press and stretch
the same way you would a pie crust.
Then we're trimming off everything
but a one-inch border around the outside.
Packing to the brim with our pate mixture,
making sure to press down evenly and thoroughly.
Then rolling out the reserve dough
to a 1/4-inch thick rectangle
just slightly larger than our loaf pen.
Brush down the edges with beaten egg,
Carefully lay the lid over top,
and trim off the edges down to the side of the pan.
Crimping, pressing, and sealing it as you go along.
Then it's time to hit our pastry
with some decorative fluting,
pinching it up and in between two fingers, again,
like you would a pie dough,
but in a bigger, bolder kind of way.
Last but not least, give it a thorough brushing down
with the rest of your beaten egg.
Then you can option optionally, decoratively
score the top with the back of a paring knife.
Going for a classic crosshatch pattern.
And then we have to install some vents.
In this case, two large round pastry tips.
First, I'm gonna press and twist them in
so I can cut out two holes
into which they can eventually reside. What?
Secure the pastry tips in the holes and then place this guy
in a preheated 375 degree Fahrenheit oven
with a pizza stone.
Baking for 15 minutes before reducing the temperature
to 325 degrees Fahrenheit and continuing to bake
for 45 to 60 minutes
until the juices are just starting to spill over
and the thickest part of the meat
registers at 165 degrees Fahrenheit.
Allow this guy to cool the room temperature
for a couple hours before refrigerating overnight.
Now we're gonna make a cheese foam, or espuma.
Combining a teaspoon of kosher salt,
half teaspoon freshly ground black pepper,
and an eighth teaspoon of xanthan gum.
Then over on the stove top,
I've got 120 milliliters of heavy cream
that I'm bringing to a bare simmer.
Killing the heat, adding 200 grams of Gruyere cheese,
covering and letting steep for about 10 minutes.
Then we're dumping that into a blender
with our xanthan gum mixture,
blitzing for about 30 seconds or until completely smooth,
and placing into an iSi whip,
which we're gonna charge with two nitrous oxide canisters
before shaking gently and refrigerating overnight.
The next day, AKA day three,
we're making a raspberry aspic.
First, soaking seven sheets of gold gelatin
in a bowl of ice cold water for five to 10 minutes
or until bloomed.
Then over on the stove top,
we're combining 400 grams of water
with 50 grams of raspberry jam.
Bringing that to a bare simmer, killing the heat,
and bringing over our gelatin sheets.
From which we're gonna squeeze all the excess water
before separating and gently laying
into our raspberry mixture stuff.
Tiny whisking to make sure
that they're completely dissolved.
Next up, grab your chilled pate en croute,
clear any blockages from the vents,
and use them as funnels
into which you can pour your raspberry aspic.
Shaking and tapping the pastry a little bit
to make sure that it's evenly filled.
Once you have that as filled to the brim as possible.
This guy's headed back into the fridge again
for two to four hours until the aspic is set.
And now later in the week that you started,
the pate en croute is finally ready to slice and serve.
As you can see, we got a nice brown bottom
from baking on the pizza stone.
So let's slice this guy open
and take a look at that cross-section.
Classy.
Hack yourself off a hunk
and we're gonna plate it up
with a quenelle of grain mustard,
maybe some dill pickle chips
if you can't find your cornichons,
and of course, a dollop of our Gruyere espuma.
So let's see how it tastes.
I'm gonna try to fix myself a bite
with a little bit of everything on it,
and let's see if this classic, French,
three and a half day process has paid off.
And the answer is not really.
It's certainly good, but it's definitely no better
than just a normal Monte Cristo.
And it's made to taste all the worst
from all the extra effort.
So I'm gonna keep hack away at this thing
gonna get my calories worth out of it
while I try to come up with a way to amp up the Monte Cristo
without adding to its timestamp.
And then it hit me like a ton of pate en croute,
Monte Cristo Patty Melt with a nice fatty turkey burger
in place of the normal lunch meat.
So I've got some ground dark meat turkey here
that I'm gonna form into an oblong patty the same size
and shape as my bread.
Over on the stove top,
I'm slowly sauteing a thinly sliced onion
in a couple tablespoons of vegetable oil
over very low heat over the course of about 30 minutes.
Which I'm going to mix directly with my raspberry jam
making a condiment that might only be good
on this particular sandwich
and is pretty good on its own, or maybe I'm just hungry.
Then back in the non-stick,
we're frying up our turkey burger in a little bit of oil.
Flipping once browned on the first side
and when it's nearly cooked through,
we're gonna cover it with cheese.
First, a couple slices of Swiss
and then some grated Gruyere.
Adding a squirt of water to the pan and covering it,
allowing the patty to finish cooking through
and the cheese to melt.
Now back sandwich side,
I've got two slices of rye sourdough,
a dry, firm bread that's gonna take well to custard-ry.
I'm spreading the mustard-mayo on one side
and our jammy onion jam on the other.
Shingling some maple ham on one side
and laying down our turkey on the other.
Now a major advantage to this sandwich
is the already hot interior,
which, once is soaked on both sides in custard,
simply has to be fried on both sides in butter
without having to worry
whether the sandwich is heated through
and the cheese is melted.
Once it's lacy brown and looking good enough to eat,
let's first chop things in half
and take a look at that cross-section.
Definitely not a bad looking Monte Cristo or Patty Melt.
Monte Melt. But how's it taste?
And I'm definitely not skipping the powdered sugar
nor extra jam on this one.
And there you have it.
A slightly amped up Monte Cristo,
which this time I'm gonna eat with a knife and fork
like a human being.
Oh, wait a second, Andy. Pose for the thumbnail.
Hide the knife. Little higher, little higher. Perfect.
And this really takes the Monte Cristo cake for me.
It's hot and melty throughout.
The onion jam is delicious and savory and sweet.
And the bread has a little bit more structure
and flavor than the factory standard white stuff.
Is it gonna bust you out of a buffet-style prison?
No, but it's a huge, melty, meaty brunch time blast
that can detect lasers.
Isn't that enough?
(upbeat music)