French Onion Soup

French onion soup, in all its flavorful, warm, and cheesy glory, is the perfect comfort food for a cold day. A few weeks ago it was 43 degrees in Saint Augustine, with a frost advisory forecast overnight. That is the kind of weather that screams, “We need French onion soup!”

This soup is really easy to make and like many French dishes, uses minimal ingredients in a simple preparation that tastes like a gourmet meal.

I learned about French onion soup when I was a teenager working at at a seaside restaurant one summer after high school. The French onion soup was so popular that there was a station set up in the kitchen for servers to assemble the soup and get it out to the tables at lightning speed.

We would grab an oven-proof crock, ladle the soup to within an inch of the rim, drop in a big slice of crusty French bread, and add the cheese. The cheese. It was pre-shredded into enormous bins and no one but the chefs were allowed to know what kind of cheese made this soup so delicious.

The servers were taught to pack as much cheese as possible on top of the soup so it was spilling over the sides. Next we’d throw the crock under the broiler until it became a golden, bubbling, mouthwatering masterpiece and serve it piping hot.

It was by far (and still is) the best French onion soup I’ve ever had. I spent my first weeks at work trying to guess what kind of cheese made this soup so spectacular. Finally one of the chefs broke down and told me it was not one, but three, cheeses that made this soup so special.

Every day I’d show up for work guessing different varieties of cheese, trying to unlock the secret.

“Mozzarella?” No.

“Parmesan?” Nope.

“Gouda?” Absolutely not.

“Cheddar?” Ewww, no.

One day, I guessed “Swiss” and the chef smiled and said, “Maybe.” I was elated. One third of the mystery solved. Unfortunately, that’s where the trail ended.

Eventually the other servers (who didn’t seem to care what cheese was in the mix) got sick of me talking about the soup and the cheese, so I had to abandon my cultured dairy obsession in the name of workplace harmony. However, I never gave up. I spent hours with the chefs, asking questions about their craft, in hopes that they might slip and spill the cheese, so to speak. They were on to me. I learned quite a bit about the magic and artistry of food preparation, but they never gave up the cheese.

My break came on a cloudy Sunday in August, near the end of the summer season. I was scheduled to open that day and work a double, so I showed up early. Sunday was often a travel day for vacationers and not quite as busy, so there was only one chef on the schedule.

When I arrived, the manager was distraught, running around the restaurant yelling at everyone. Apparently the chef who was scheduled that day called in sick at the last minute, and the backups either didn’t answer their phones, didn’t have phones, or weren’t available. As I walked through the door, one of the servers pointed at me and said, “She hangs out with the kitchen staff all the time.”

The manager looked at me expectantly, but I responded, “No way.” I had seen how crazy it was in the kitchen on a Sunday, the chef covered in sweat, doing at least twenty difficult and complicated things simultaneously, and cooking everything perfectly. That took skill and years of training that I did not have.

“Can’t you PLEASE just fill in until we can get one of the other chefs to answer? I’m sure we’ll have a replacement in a few hours.” That was the nicest thing the manager had ever said to me (she was always gruff, and frankly, I was afraid of her). She looked desperate. I caved.

“Fine. I’ll try, but if you get complaints about the food, its not on me.” What else could I say? I was scared to death, but I had learned a little from watching the chefs, and hey, cooking is fun. The orders were already coming in, so I jumped into action. I made burgers and sandwiches, sautéed and julienned vegetables, composed salads, fried fish, steamed shrimp, and broiled steaks. I was chugging along, enjoying myself (only burning about 1 in 5 of each order), when one of the servers yelled, “We’re low on cheese for the French onion soup. We need to refill the bin.”

I had been so distracted that I hadn’t even thought of the cheese. My heart leaped. The secret cheese blend was stored in the walk-in refrigerator, off limits to servers, but not to me now that I was cook for the day. I literally ran to the walk-in and unearthed the treasure.

Swiss. Gruyère. French Emmental.

Cue the divine shaft of light beaming on the walk-in refrigerator and angels singing in chorus.

My favorite recipe for French onion soup is this one, from Coco Morante for Simply Recipes. She uses Gruyère cheese, and I always add Swiss and Emmental because its delicious and nostalgic for me. If you have an Instant Pot, her recipe is the quickest and easiest way to make really flavorful French onion soup. If you don’t have an Instant Pot, follow the same directions but on the stovetop, sautéing the onions for as long as it takes to develop that deep golden color before adding the stock and other ingredients to deglaze the pot. Then cook on the stovetop on medium-low with the lid on for as long as you can (at least an hour) before adding the toast and glorious cheese. Enjoy!