Jambon Beurre, a love story in 5 ingredients
On a sourdough kick, I came to Publican Quality Bread for sourdough starter, maybe some pastries too. But then I saw someone order the Jambon Beurre.
No hesitation, no deliberation—just an order spoken with certainty. I watched as the baguette was split open and an obscene amount of butter was spread across its surface. Thick, smooth, deliberate—not a smear, but a layer, as if the bread itself was merely a vehicle for the butter. That was enough. I didn’t need to see the rest. I ordered one without thinking.
The first bite demands your attention. The baguette shatters on impact, crisp enough to rough up the roof of your mouth, structured enough to hold firm. Then the butter—cold, impossibly creamy, refusing to disappear into the bread, standing its ground. On top of that, the ham: artisanal, imperfectly perfect, its lean center folded into layers, the edges trailing into delicate ribbons of fat that cling to the butter in defiance of gravity. Then the Comté, nutty and sharp, just softened enough to blur the lines between butter and cheese, amplifying the richness without overshadowing the whole. And just when the weight of it all starts to settle, the seeded Dijon mustard snaps it back into balance, it's bold, textured, and its seeds burst with just enough bite to keep indulgence from tipping into excess.
It is, in theory, the simplest sandwich in the world. And yet, it is perfect. Not because of any elaborate technique, but because of its absolute refusal to hold back. Every layer, every decision, executed without compromise.
I can’t keep paying $14 for it. But I also can’t stop eating it. So I’m left with only one option: recreate it. Master the baguette, spread the butter with the same reckless abandon, track down ham worthy of its bread-bound throne, find a Comté that melts just right. I’ve let sourdough slip through my fingers before—but not this time.
Because a sandwich this simple, this excessive, this perfect, is worth the obsession.
Unfortunately, I still don’t know how to pronounce it. Ha-mone burr? Jah-mone bue-err? Why is the name more complicated than the sandwich itself?