The Monte Cristo Sandwich Is a Study in Sweet-Savory Perfection

What a marvel of tension held within those two sentences. The first one describes a simple lunch, one befitting the young scholar I wanted to be seen as. Oh, but the second sentence. It conjured images of something my buddies and I might come up with after one of our garage band jam sessions, and from what I recall, it delivered on its over-the-top promise.

Though I’m older now, with more mature tastes, my love for a Monte Cristo remains intact. Essentially a hot ham and cheese sandwich on French toast, it is just right for a special-occasion brunch, perfect for those of us who never want to choose between sweet and savory, breakfast or lunch.

Our rendition here hews closely to the earliest widely published recipe, found in The Brown Derby Cookbook (1949). Served in golden-age Hollywood’s famous hat-shaped restaurant, the Derby’s Monte Cristo was a triple-decker sandwich of roast chicken, ham, and Swiss, dipped in a light egg custard and skillet-fried in butter. We made some deliberate departures to streamline things and update the flavors.

First, we omitted the roast chicken; using ham as the only meat allowed us to fully lean into the Monte Cristo’s sweet and salty nature. Rather than Swiss, we chose buttery Brie, which melts easily and stays molten and luscious even after cooling a bit—a perfect creamy foil for the salty ham. And we ditched the three-slice construction and upgraded the bread to buttery brioche.

Brioche, a lightly sweet, soft bread enriched with egg and butter, makes excellent French toast and also serves as the ideal bread for our Monte Cristo—rich and lightly sweet, with just enough sturdiness to keep the structure in place. Lightly toasting slices of brioche before assembling our sandwiches kept the bread from getting squished under the weight of the other ingredients. Toasting also dried the exterior of the bread, allowing it to quickly soak up more of the flavorful milk, egg, and cinnamon custard.

To ensure that four sandwiches would be hot and ready to serve at the same time (only two can fit in the skillet at once), we cooked them in batches and then baked them briefly in a 350-degree oven on a wire rack (so that the bottom bread wouldn’t steam and get soggy). They emerged golden brown, with lightly crisped edges and gooey cheese, ready for the customary powdered-sugar flurry.

With a swipe of raspberry jam inside and more on the plate for dipping, this Monte Cristo delivers on the promise made by that restaurant menu I encountered so many years ago: a truly memorable sandwich worthy of worldwide fame.