Mrs. Blong’s fireplace grilled cheese

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Why this has been on my mind lately, I don’t know, but on my mind it has been:

The best grilled cheese sandwiches I ever had were the ones I ate in front of Mrs. Blong’s fireplace in little Stacyville, Iowa, where I was a little boy a long time ago now.

I have had many, many grilled cheese sandwiches since then – made them myself, mostly – and they never quite measure up. I’ve made them on white bread, wheat bread, rye and sourdough. With American, Swiss, provolone, pepperjack (a personal favorite) and even Velveeta.

I’ve added ham and mushrooms and turkey. I’ve grilled them on cast iron, aluminum, Teflon, stainless steel.

The ones I haven’t burned are great, if I say so myself. Still, they don’t compare.

Why?

Mrs. Blong didn’t make them. She didn’t butter any of that bread with real butter and layer that cheese between the slices and press it all into perfectly round sandwiches in that old sandwich press and let me hold the press over an actual wood fire and sizzle them until they turned a perfect golden brown and then watch me eat them.

She was the nice neighbor lady, the wife of Dr. T.E. Blong, and she made the best grilled cheese there ever was.