King of the Toasties

The ink is now dry on the contracts, and I’m the proud owner of a small shed.  Big deal, I hear you say, but this is no ordinary shed – it’s my shed of dreams.  A few months ago now, I put an offer in on a small hut between a ski lift and a ski rental shop.  This hut sold paninis, although I do like a panini, it wasn’t the obvious choice for food in a cold environment.  After discussing it with friends, I decided on a toastie bar.  Since then I have been quizzing people about toasties, everywhere I go, the hospital, pharmacy, bookshop, party I ask the same question what is your favourite toastie?

I looked at the list and realised there were many, many votes for a Cheese and Ham or Croque Monsieur. Obviously, it won’t be on my menu as an Englishman making a Frenchman’s speciality is too risky for my fledgeling business to bear. I decided to begin again, holding toastie tasting sessions, inviting friends and family over to taste toasties. So drumroll please and the winners are;

In third place; Cheese, Chilli and Onion.
In second place; Cheese and Tomato.
And the winner is; Maple candied bacon, egg with cheese.

Three toasties a business does not make.  I needed to add something else, something hot and comforting and decided upon beans.  The humble baked bean has sustained students throughout university life for generations.  I have a soft spot in my heart for comfort food, and the bean is definitely in there.  Although the bean is amazing in its unadulterated form, I question if people would pay five euros for a small pot and seven euros for a large one.  I quickly decided the answer was probably no and selected additional items to add to the pot.  My Anglo-Indian Chilli-beans were born and wondrous they are too.

So next time you’re in Les Gets, why not pop along for a toastie and some amazing chilli-beans.  As the French would say A bein tot.

Pomme de Terre Crumble.

The delights of buying a catered ski chalet holiday are questionable. In the most part, your wonderful food will be cooked by a nineteen-year-old with little culinary experience and who believes a pot noodle is a gourmet dinner.

During the first weeks of the season, the great unwashed of the British middle-class arrives to learn how to cook your menu. Chalet workers are given a one week of culinary boot camp to learn the basics. During culinary boot camp, sadly ingredient substitution is not explained. The chances are the same children substituting your lemon squash for Cif Lemon cleaner a week earlier on your supermarket shop are now creating your evening meals.

The funniest gastronomic mistake story I have heard was potato crumble.

The mistake happened because of a lost in translation moment. “Buy tinned, pre-pealed, pre-chopped” goods. I agree this is a time-saving tip, but it hardly makes for as gastronomic delight.

Lucy was more concerned about how her arse looks in ski pants than learning how to cook. I did feel sorry for Lucy, she came dreaming of snow selfies and unwittingly became the star of a ski guide’s sex tape. She was beside herself with self-loathing – I’m sure the link is still on XHamster.com, I digress.

On this particular day, Lucy had popped down to the local Sherpa to collect the ingredients for the upcoming weeks’ food. Straight to the canned fruit isle, to stock up. In her drunken haze, she mistook Pommes, for Pomme de Terre. She prepared the crumble, hungover and didn’t realise until it was time to serve the dessert. The following week a complaint letter arrived at the head office, the customer didn’t appreciate this take on a classic.