The Classic School Lunch

Many people don’t seem to have terribly fond memories of lunches consumed in high school cafeterias. It would seem, based on the way people speak of high school cafeterias, that many such places specialized in steaming gray matter and amorphous green such and such. Maybe I lucked out, then, that I found most of the fare served in my high school cafeteria to be relatively palatable. Now sure, they weren’t filling us with succulent protein morsels delicately carved from a chicken that had been raised without having its feelings hurt one single time in it’s entire emotionally satisfying life with a side of farm fresh kale. There was plenty of Sysco bargain-basement fare that would get dolled up and passed off as (insert standard “homestyle” fare here), because let’s face it, those meals were insanely cheap, and they sure as shit weren’t charging as much to stay in the school building for seven and a half hours a day as the Mariott does, so logic would dictate that one shouldn’t expect continental breakfast-level fare. Those lunch ladies did what they could with what they had, though, I’ll gladly give credit where credit is due: they made it work more often than not. And I’ll never know how they did it, but I’ve still, 14 years after graduating, never had cheesecake better than the strawberry cheesecake that those lunch ladies made a few times each year. While that cheesecake may have been their greatest hit, their crescendo, but in the oeuvre of school lunches, the composition that was their masterpiece was the regularly occurring meal that the entire student body looked forward to: Chili, grilled cheese sandwiches, and cinnamon rolls.

Chili and grilled cheese are pretty natural companions. After all, tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches is a staple combination, and what’s chili but tomato soup with a bunch of stuff in it? And the cinnamon roll… don’t sleep on the cinnamon roll. It’s not just some afterthought dessert item. The cinnamon roll is the addend that brings the whole of this little math problem to levels that are greater than the sum of its parts. Thus in this, the month of our Cheese Sandwiches, I’ve decided to recreate this classic meal.

The preparation of this thing, from a sandwich standpoint, is pretty simple. You take a couple slices of bread, butter ’em, toast ’em on a skillet, put some cheese (I used sharp cheddar) between the toasted sides thus creating a sandwich, butter the not-yet-toasted sides, throw the thing in the skillet and flip it over a couple times to make sure that all bread is now toasted and all cheese is now melted. Remove from the pan, and cut diagonally. Chili is not a sandwich, but know that in this case it was created with onions, bell peppers, jalapenos, tomatoes, garlic, tomato paste, ground beef, various herbs and spices, and oh yeah, black beans because we’re not in fucking Texas. The cinnamon roll was acquired from a local purveyor of delicious baked goods.

Finished sandwiches: crispy on the outside, gooey on the inside

The gang’s all here

Throughout the course of my life, I’ve noticed that many people, when presented with a bowl of chili, will promptly top it with crushed crackers and shredded cheese. I’m here to tell you to cut that shit out. Skip the crumbled and shredded nonsense, grab those grilled cheese sandwiches, and use then those sandwiches as a vehicle for the chili. That’s right, just dunk the corner of one of those diagonally cut sandwiches in there, and scoop up whatever you can. Use the corner of another sandwich as a guide if need be. The toast stays crispier and the cheese stays creamier and both contribute to a generally more pleasant textural experience when they’re applied on the fly and not all stirred into mush. A bonus is that you barely need to use a spoon.

Dunk and scoop

But what about that cinnamon roll? It’s not just a thing that you eat after you’re finished eating everything else, if that’s what you were thinking. Nope, that baby is going to get down and get dirty. Once you’ve exhausted your grilled cheese sandwich supply, you should, if you’ve done everything correctly so far, you have very little chili left in your bowl. If you were especially thorough with your sandwich-chili-scooping, or if you had a lot of sandwiches to work with, or if you had not a lot of chili to work with, maybe you have no chili left in your bowl. That’s okay! At the very least you should have a bowl lined with chili remnants. Grab that cinnamon roll, pretend it’s a sloppy old sponge that sits on the edge of your sink for entirely too long, and use it to get a jump start on doing dishes. And then eat it. Mop that sugary sweet bread along the inside of the bowl and pick up as much chili residue as you can before shoving it into your maw.

Cleanup/dessert

Where the grilled cheese sandwiches loaded up with chili provided textural contrast and complimentary flavor, the cinnamon roll does just the opposite. Everything you’re eating at this point is soft and will melt in your mouth, but the cinnamon and icing working with the residual spiciness work together to gradually transition your tongue from the heat of the chili to the sweet decadence of dessert. By the time the cinnamon roll is finished, you’ll have a clean bowl, a full tummy, a fully sated palate, and a sense of calm.

Chili, grilled cheese sandwiches, and cinnamon rolls: A meal to look forward to.

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