Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup

The past year has felt a bit like the start of a new chapter in my life, which is a strange feeling to have when you’re right in the middle of it. I usually notice things like this in a fit of nostalgia, as I look back on a part of my life and say to myself, “Oh, that was the time when I was…” and then finish the sentence with one of many adjectives. Dressing like a boy. Drinking too much coffee. Drinking too much. Sleeping too much. Happy. Sad. Oblivious.

I’ve always felt like myself, like I’m existing on a continuum, and only in looking back can I cut the continuum into pieces. But this part of my life, the moving back to France part and the starting my Masters part, has felt like a break, a change, one that I notice on a daily basis… and it’s scary.

I pull a book that I used to love off my bookcase and quickly reshelve it when I realize that I don’t identify with teenage characters in the same way I used to; I’d rather keep the memory alive than reread The Catcher in the Rye and be disappointed. Movies that I used to love, like Garden State, don’t feel the way they once did. Bars that were home to dozens of fun nights feel tired and dirty. I’m not sure how I feel about all of these sudden changes, but I can’t do anything to stop them.

My father loves the story of when I was maybe eight or nine, walking through the aisles of a toy store and telling him, very seriously, “I think I’ve grown up… because I don’t want anything here.” It makes him laugh; it makes me think. Maybe this is growing up?

I went back to my boarding school a year after I graduated and, in a bout of nostalgia, made my old favorite dinner standby: a bowl of pasta covered in shredded cheese from the salad bar and microwaved for exactly a minute. The cheese tasted like plastic; the pasta was both overcooked and crunchy. The memory was ruined.

Luckily, there are some things that never change: while I find Campbell’s Tomato Soup metallic and too sweet, the boxed soups that Emese stocks up on when she comes to Paris every couple of months are delicious veloutés, perfect for dunking a buttery grilled cheese with American singles. I introduced the Country Boy to this classic American combo a few weeks ago; he quickly fell in love and asked for one for his packed lunch on Monday. I didn’t know how to explain to him that bringing cold grilled cheese in a sack lunch would quickly destroy any good memories he had of them, so I just refused, outright… but I’m sure I’ll be making them a few more times before the end of the winter.

Classic Grilled Cheese (makes two sandwiches)
Don’t mess with classics: I have an aversion to plastic cheese and white sliced bread under most circumstances, but not when it comes to grilled cheese.

30 g (a bit more than two tablespoons) butter, softened
4 slices white bread
4 slices American cheese

Heat a skillet over medium high heat. Butter each slice of bread on both sides. Put the cheese slices between the slices of bread, two slices per sandwich.

Place the sandwiches in the skillet. Heat for about 1-2 minutes per side, until browned. Serve with tomato soup.