I feel like I talk about college a lot on this blog. I swear I’m not one of those people who like dream about the good ole days or anything like that (because hey let’s be real my life is pretty effing sweet right now) but one of my besties from FSU is visiting and I’m feeling nostalgic. Owen, who was once the nicest young ruffian you could imagine, is now a real live man! He has the biggest heart of any guy I know but back in the day, the way he displayed his feelings of passion were, well… hilarious and most of the time didn’t really make a whole lot of sense. Let me share the incidents of one special night…
On one beautiful winter night in Tallahassee, my drunken friends and I stumbled to my neighbors house for a little bonfire dance party. The Chocolate House, where the party was taking place, was known for their insane ragers. Their old yellow bungalow looked like a porn den from the 70s but was filled with about three million music instruments and about 1 zillion watts of sound… which helped take away the creep factor. These boys always threw the most outrageous parties and some of my fondest memories (that I can remember, sheesh) were formed there. Anyways, on this particular night of bopping around in the woods and groovin’ my ass off to their DJ set, we all settled by the bonfire, red sweaty solo cups in hand, happily recounting the nights events.
All of a sudden, one rando drunk kid was dancing a little bit too close to the fire and we were all automatically concerned. Where were all his friends? Why wasn’t someone telling him to not stand so close to the pit? Was this boy about to trip and fall into the fire and one of us were going to have to save his inebriated ass? I sure as hell knew it wasn’t going to be me but Owen, who took it upon himself, decided that he was going to be the one who rescued the kid from his potential fiery death. Very gentlemanly like, he kindly warned the kid to move away from the fire. The kid swayed his head like some doped up housewife on valium and white wine and mumbled, just barely audible, “Fuck off, dude.”
Owen, like any young man with too much booze and testosterone in his system got up and decided to give the kid another warning. This didn’t go over well and the kid was back by the fire in like 2 seconds, dancing around the edge like some tribesman and was stumbling so close to the flames that we were all white knuckled, wondering how the fuck he wasn’t on fire yet. Unlike us, Owen didn’t find the humor in this and before we knew it, he was up in the kids face telling him to “Get the fuck out of the fire NOW or I will remove you from the fire for fucks sake!” The kid, of course, didn’t give one shit about what Owen had to say and decided to jump over the fire and show off. I don’t know how he actually made it but Owen was not impressed. So as an attempt to save this kid from the potential hellfire that could have led to his dimise, Owen then proceeded to headbutt the youngster to teach him a lesson and get him out of harms way… sort of… I guess? “BOOM BITCH!” is what Owen yelled in an almost King Kong type manner; fists pounding on his puffed up chest as the kid dizzily looked at the sky trying to understand what just happened to him. Luckily for the kid, Owen’s head-butt probably saved his life.
But now instead of head-butting all the wrong-doers in Tallahassee, Owen’s all grown up and has changed from a punk little kid into a real live adult boy! He works for a startup in San Fran and is totally killing it. I’m so proud of him and nothing makes me more happy than when I see my friends grow up into awesome individuals. It really goes to show that head-butts are the best way to show that you care about someone. Jk. But seriously, I’ve never seen a better head-butter than him and I probably never will. Ok, ok, for real though Owen is a champ and he’s here in nyc and I’m writing this blog post so he reads it and never leaves. I’m also making him this sandwich because he eats a lot of meat and the first time I had a Monte Cristo was at Bennigans about a mile from our school. So yeah, let’s give it up to old times while you enjoy my version of this insane-o sandwich.
- Wisconsin Brie
- Raspberry Jam
- Green Onion
- French Toast Batter
- French bread
To begin, smear on some raspberry jam! It’s tart, slightly sweet and has little raspberry seeds which lend some nice textural variety. It’s really pretty, too.
Then add a slice of turkey and some ham so that each bite is full of meaty awesomeness. Oh and then let your guy friends finish off the rest. They need their meat, remember?!
Now add some chopped green onion and the other slice of bread with the brie on it.
How pretty?! Now here’s the fun part. Gently take your sandwich and dip each end in a shallow bowl full of french toaster batter. Let it sit for a second so that it sops up all the goodness and then set them all aside.
Now melt some butter in a pan and turn the heat to medium. Once the b
utter begins to bubble, add your french toast soaked sandwich and let it cook for a few minutes on each side until it gets all crispy and golden and french toast-y.
When the sandwich is all good to go, take it out of your pan and let it sit for a second before dousing it in powdered sugar.
Serve with a side of honey mustard, nice glass of Chardonnay (maybe from St. Francis Winery?!), and handcuffs so your friends never leave you. Just kidding… sort of.