When the World is a Shitstorm, Make a Sandwich

It was a patty melt. My mother loved patty melts and so did I. When I was in elementary school, we actually had a Woolworth's Store with a lunch counter. It was the treat for after ballet class, my Mom and I going and sitting at the counter with patty melts and milk, seeing people we knew from Temple, just living the life.

I have almost always chosen a petty melt over a burger anytime I see it on a menu. There are a few different ways it can be made: generally differing only in choice of cheese and very occasionally, some people put a little Thousand Island dressing in them. 

A classic patty melt however is rye bread, hamburger patty, fried onions, cheese and grilled. It's distinct with richness of the meat, the bread having the earthier rye, the onions enveloping the entire mouth with the slight chew and the sharpness and then the cheese bringing it to a perfect bite. 

It was my IHOP standard. Very few places have it any more so IHOP in Hilo and Gramma's Kitchen in Honoka'a were my two places. But Gramma's closed and IHOP took it off the menu. I was told I can still order it and they'll make it but with wheat bread. 

It is not a patty melt with wheat bread.

I felt bereft. Something that has always been an enjoyment in my life is now going the way of the dinosaur. 

Then one day I thought "duh!" And I made one myself.

The problem with making something beloved is that rarely can you recreate in your kitchen what the line cook has been doing for years. Will you get the patties at perfect bite? Will you char the onions? Which cheese?

Yesterday was the day. I grated a block of cheddar. I sliced a onion into ribbons. I took my pan and sautéed onions. I didn't watch them carefully and they browned instead of turning translucent.  But they weren't burnt. I had frozen patties and tossed 2 on the pan. Covered and cooked. Perfect hint of pink in the center and brown outside. 

Jewish rye. Onions. Cheese. Patties. Mayo on the outside of the bread. Clean pan and sandwich down. Beautiful brown on the bread. Flip. Next side perfect. On the plate. Cut in half. 

And it was as good as any patty melt I've ever had anywhere. The flavors were exactly as they were supposed to be. The onions were sharp. The cheese melted and blended the flavors together. The patties perfect. And the bread was exactly right. It was the lunch counter at Woolworth's after ballet class. It was IHOP with my SIL with laughter and pleasure. It was a million small diners over 60 years. It was a comfort and a surprise. 

It was a moment when nothing was wrong but everything had an amazing brightness and possibility. It was hope on a plate. It was a classic American patty melt and something I really needed.