Jeez, after all that literary exegesis, I feel a little dopey talking about my Monte Cristo encounters but in Boston, in 1973, the sandwich, as prepared in at a few places on Commonwealth, was turkey, ham and Swiss on challah dipped in batter and deep fried. It was savory, not French toasty at all. It crunched. Since then, all I encounter is as you describe. Ah youth, ah my crunchy youth.
Jeez, after all that literary exegesis, I feel a little dopey talking about my Monte Cristo encounters but in Boston, in 1973, the sandwich, as prepared in at a few places on Commonwealth, was turkey, ham and Swiss on challah dipped in batter and deep fried. It was savory, not French toasty at all. It crunched. Since then, all I encounter is as you describe. Ah youth, ah my crunchy youth.