Olivers wrote:

> I suspect that as with many other dishes, it may be hard to place an
> accurate "person + moment" to the Monte Christo, but it certainly seems
> Edwardian and I'd be inclined to bet on Paris (or Deauville/Nice/etc.),
> 1875-1910 or so.
>
> Now, as to the relationship with "Croque Monsieur" ?

The croque monsieurs I've had were essentially grilled ham and cheese
sandwiches, usually cooked in a heated sandwich press and imprinted
with some fanciful pressed-in lines of varying sorts.

The Monte Christo is two slices of French toast (pain perdue) with
stuff between, cooked on a griddle. I've seen deep-fried ones, but
they were held together by various picks and skewers and might be
imagined to be merely grease-delivery vehicles with the caloric
content of, perhaps, napalm. I've even seen them *breaded* and deep
fried, but passed on the potential delights they might bring.

I suspect that the pressed grilled cheese approach is considerably older.

I believe that the Monte Christo was invented at a small bistro
called Chez Edmund Dantes in the tiny village or Monte. Named after a
secretive relative (recently found to be the brother-in-law of the
owner, one Cristo, who was an accountant and spelled badly) who had a
passion for eggs and bread, it was invented my Mere Dantes one
Wednesday afternoon to just get her brother off her aching back.
The place was busy, what with the revolution going on and people
calling each other "Citizen" and all, and she didn't need her whiny
brother distracting her. She made him sit in one of the unused banquet
rooms so he wouldn't disturb the women at their knitting. "Restez la,"
she commanded and he, wisely, did, sword or no sword.
She had a cancellation, some former aristocrat who wanted breakfast
at noon and lost his head over the order, and had these two slices of
Pain Merveille sitting in milk and egg. "Sacre bleu," she said,
because all French people say that.
She dropped them onto the griddle, browned one side, flipped them
over and topped them with slices of the new rage, dindon, plus fromage
Suisse, jambon and some miscellany. Pressed it down with a spatula,
cut it into quarters and had it served it to her brother with a
plebian white wine, young and brash but with small signs of a future
greatness, not to mention overtones of strawberries, guavas (which
they had never seen), lumber, Xanax, February and Alpha Centauri.
She called to the serving wench, "Bring this to the Accountant of
Monte, Cristo." Over the years, there have been small changes to the
name and formulation, and even Cristo's name, but the spirit remains.

The rest, as we all know, is history.

Pastorio