Bat sandwich

There are times when only bacon will do, whether it’s breakfast, lunch, or supper. Bacon with avocado is better still, as I learnt a few years ago in London. And bacon and avocado is further improved by fridge cold, juicy tomato slices. Bats, or bald mice, as they’re called in French, and which have nothing to do with this sandwich – are rather adorable. But dear, kind, ancient, TV-addicted Annie, who lived with my grandparents, maintained that bats got tangled in your hair and had to be cut free with scissors if you weren’t very careful, leaving you pretty bald as a result. I believed her until I realized it was nonsense. To this day, Dad is deeply scared of bats. Especially ones that fly into hotel rooms without warning.

A BAT, anytime, anywhere
Grill two rashers (slices) of really good bacon. The best you can get.
Cut an avocado in half. Slam the blade of a sharp knife into the stone, twist, pull out the stone, chuck it out. Patch up your hand with Band-Aid. Slice across the avocado without piercing the skin, then spoon out the slices on to a plate.
Slice a tomato.
Toast two pieces of bread.

Assemble. (Yes, of course it’ll fall out all over place. That’s OK, no one much is watching.) If you want to minimize the collapse, smush the avocado on to the toast before adding the bacon and tomato.

My Belgian roots

Chicons au gratin, à ma façon (all good things come from Belgium)
Two of my friends regularly ask for this, but can never remember what it’s called, so they call it ‘torpedoes’. Well, OK. Why not?

Buy two evenly-sized chicons (that’s endive if you’re French, English or American) per person, and a couple of extras for luck. I’ve never known anyone eat more than four at a sitting, though they’ve sometimes come close to it.
Get good quality, thinly sliced ham, e.g. Parma cotto, but that pre-packaged stuff will do if necessary. One slice per chicon, with some extras in case.
Choose your cheese. It ought to be Gruyère, but good Cheddar or other hard cheese works very well. Not Parmesan.

Flour – all purpose
Butter
Milk – a pint or more depending on how many people you’re feeding
Small amount of freshly grated nutmeg. (No, I don’t like it pre-ground.)

Take any slightly browning leaves off the chicons. They shouldn’t be there. Where did you get them?
Take the smallest slice off the base, being careful not to let the chicons open up in the process.
Put them all in a saucepan filled with cold water, little bit of salt.
Bring to boil, then simmer for about 15 minutes.
Drain. Drain again. And once more. Now make sure there’s no water at all by wrapping each one in kitchen paper and squeezing. Watery cheese sauce is nasty.

Put a lump (technical term) of butter into a saucepan, melt, then add about the same amount of flour to make a Roux. Mix together with a wooden spoon and allow the floury taste to cook out on the lowest heat possible for about ten minutes, or more. Patience required. Do not leave the site. It’ll burn and you’ll get annoyed. If this happens, throw it out and start again. Add cold milk bit by bit. Throw wooden spoon out of the window and use a whisk instead. Lumps are as nasty as watery cheese sauce.
Start adding grated cheese. Incorporate.
Grate nutmeg into it. Don’t overdo it.
Increase heat to thicken, but not yet. See next step.

Wrap each chicon in a piece of ham. Lay in soldierly fashion in a shallow dish.
Thicken sauce. Taste for seasoning – it usually needs salt as far as I’m concerned.
Chuck sauce over chicons. Put in oven until the whole thing bubbles and starts to brown a little on top.

Crusty bread pretty much essential. Nothing else is.