Why I Don’t Make Croque-Monsieur the French Way (And That’s Okay)

I thought I knew how to eat a croque-monsieur… until I saw my friend do this one strange thing with grated carrot...

The French among you will probably disagree with me calling the grilled cheese sandwich you see in the photo above a croque-monsieur. The Belgians, on the other hand, might be more forgiving.

Belgium sits right between France and the Netherlands. And you can clearly see that geographical position reflected in its grilled cheese sandwich culture.

Let me explain.

The French croque-monsieur

The French croque-monsieur is very generously filled with Gruyère cheese and ham, covered in béchamel sauce with cheese, and then placed under the grill until it forms a crisp crust.

You’ll usually get two of them, often served with a side salad and/or raw vegetables.

For a classic French take on the croque-monsieur, here’s a great example by chef Jean-Pierre:

The French croque-monsieur can easily be considered a full meal.

(Honestly, you really won’t be hungry afterwards… if you even manage to finish your plate!)

The Belgian croque-monsieur

The Belgian version looks similar, but is a slightly lighter version of the rich French grilled cheese sandwich.

You’ll usually also get two, and just like the French version it is served with salad and/or raw vegetables, but without the béchamel.

What you do always get, however, is mayonnaise and ketchup… and grated carrot. That one is non-negotiable.

The Belgian croque-monsieur can also be considered a full meal, for example suitable for lunch.

And then there is the Dutch “tosti”

That is also a grilled cheese sandwich.

With ketchup.

I grew up in Belgium. Almost every Belgian café serves its own highly personal version of the croque-monsieur.

When I was a teenager and went into town with a friend, we almost always, with very few exceptions, went to eat a croque-monsieur. It was affordable for us as teenagers, and a real treat.

By the way, I was never particularly fond of the grated carrot. For me, it was just a cheerful splash of colour to contrast with the green lettuce leaf that was usually served alongside it.

Until I saw how my friend ate her croque-monsieur.

It looked so delicious that, 40 years later, I still eat it that way.

She would cut off a small piece of the croque-monsieur, dip it into mayonnaise, maybe a bit of ketchup as well, and then “build” a small tuft of grated carrot on top with her knife.

And then that bite would disappear in one go.

I mostly reserve this technique for the outer edges of the sandwich, since those tend to be the driest. The combination of mayonnaise and grated carrot makes them less dry and gives them a more luscious finish.

How I make mine

The croque-monsieur becomes at its most luscious when you cook it in a frying pan with a lid. I do have a sandwich toaster, but I’ve found that cooking it in a pan is far more enjoyable than using the toaster.

A little secret that makes the Belgian version even better—at least in my opinion—is adding paper-thin slices of tomato and a light sprinkle of garlic powder. It makes a world of difference. (This is my personal twist, not part of the traditional Belgian croque-monsieur.)

I like to fry mine in olive oil, but if you cook it in a generous knob of butter, it becomes more authentic of course.

Here’s how I do it:

01

I heat olive oil or butter in a frying pan over high heat. When the pan is hot, I turn the heat all the way down, briefly dip both sides of the sandwich into the oil or butter, and then let it brown on one side with the lid on.

02

Then I flip it, let the other side brown as well, and repeat this process until the sandwich reaches a deep golden colour and the cheese has fully melted.

03

Meanwhile, I prepare a plate with—if I have it—lettuce, some tomato, and the essentials: grated carrot, mayonnaise, and ketchup.

A few extras worth trying

Instead of eating two sandwiches, I always replace one with a hard-boiled egg. It really works well with it, is filling, and lowers the calories a bit.

One thing that really elevates the side dish—this is an absolute must-try—is beans with finely chopped onion. That combination, especially with a bit of mayonnaise, is so movingly delicious it’ll have tears springing to your eyes. Just make sure to add a little salt and pepper!

You can use white beans, cannellini beans, or brown beans for this. (Cannellini beans are, in my opinion, the best.)

Another classic addition—something you almost always get in Belgium—is a small sliced pickled gherkin. It adds a little acidity that balances the flavours, but I didn’t have any at home.

For me, the croque-monsieur is still a treat, but also a convenient meal.

Every morning I eat this healthy vegetable soup. And because of that, I allow myself the occasional indulgence like a grilled sandwich when I don’t feel like cooking anything more elaborate.

And now I’m going to eat, because I’ve made myself hungry. 😝

Before you go…

I’d love to hear from you:

Do you eat your croque-monsieur/tosti more like the French, Belgian, or Dutch version—or do you have your own personal version of it?

And do you have a nice food memory from your teenage years that still sticks with you?

Feel free to share it in the comments.

If you enjoyed this post, share it with someone who takes grilled sandwiches just a little bit too seriously. It might just make them unexpectedly hungry.