For as much as I love cheese – which, trust me, my devotion is infinite and everlasting – I rarely eat grilled cheese. Chalk it up to just another childhood overdose – I never eat peanut butter & jelly, either. Grilled cheese lost its appeal before Clinton took office.
Which is why it was shocking that yesterday, I had the chance to eat a grilled cheese for lunch – and I jumped at it. Like, I literally sprung out of my chair and made a beeline for the kitchen. See, my co-worker Delaney is a dazzling maker-of-all-foods, and she brought a griddle! To work! To make grilled cheeses! And if this woman makes something, it is a guaran-freaking-tee that I will love it.
I’m serious. Remember how Ritz Cracker Cheese Sandwiches are my secret shame? Delaney has actually taken these bite-sized wonders and made them into a gourmet snack. She shakes some sort of herby goodness all over them, and I swear, they could be served to the Queen of England.
After experiencing this woman’s brilliance yesterday, I can positively say that I am back in the saddle when it comes to grilled cheese. She has renewed my hope, my faith, my confidence in the sandwich. Thank you, Delaney, for pointing me toward the truth.
Now, to make my own. I’m looking for grilled cheese tips, if anyone has any…