We have excellent croissants in Los Angeles. The baguettes at République and Clark Street bakery are first-rate. Frites? There are too many local favorites to count. But when it comes to impossibly slender shops lined with wine, good mustard and a counter filled with all manner of cured meat that smells like feet? Paris is the place to be.
During a recent trip, I set out in search of the perfect jambon beurre, the exquisite French sandwich of ham and butter on a baguette. It’s the sort of thing you can find at nearly every bakery in Paris, behind all the charcuterie counters and at the cafe in your terminal at the airport. But when I did a quick search for the best jambon beurre online, the same shop dominated the results. An online publication went as far as claiming that the jambon beurre from Le Petit Vendome was “the best sandwich in the world,” prompting dozens of influencers to visit the restaurant and proclaim the same.
The best sandwich in the world? I’m no stranger to making such outlandish claims in this column. I have steered readers toward the best grilled cheese in the universe. I encourage them to travel to Santa Ana for the best sourdough. I stand by these wild proclamations. But I was skeptical that this jambon beurre in Paris was the best sandwich in the world. I also couldn’t resist a visit to see for myself.
But first, I took a recommendation from a trusted source.
On my first morning in Paris, I walked from the Latin Quarter into Le Marais in search of Caractère de Cochon. Los Angeles Times Food deputy editor Betty Hallock recommended the small shop, claiming that this was, in fact, home to the best jambon beurre in Paris. Hallock has impeccable taste. And she’s never one to over exaggerate a recommendation.
The shop is located in a plum-colored building in the Marais in the third arrondissement. The woman inside was already helping a couple when I arrived, and kindly asked that I wait outside. The space is about the size of a walk-in closet, and only one party is allowed at a time.
Bunches of saucisson dangle from the ceiling and bottles of wine line the walls. A man works a shiny metal meat slicer behind the counter.
The first question the woman asks is if I would like a sandwich. Then she directs me to a small refrigerator with tall glass doors, and asks me to choose my ham. There’s a selection of jambon de Paris (boiled ham) and cured French ham, with rounds of meat in every shade of pink. They’re plain or studded with things like garlic or rosemary. I opt for the plain jambon de Paris, then ask her to choose a ham for a second sandwich. She points at a deep black cured ham and simply says “this is the one.”
Butter? Of course. Then she asks me to wait outside while the sandwiches are being assembled, and helps the next customers.
After about three minutes on the sidewalk, she emerges from the store and hands me my sandwiches.
The baguette gives a satisfying crack, then butter gushes into my mouth. There’s a glorious rush of salt and cream, milky, a little grassy but mostly mild. Then the funk of the cured ham floods my senses, fatty and potent as a forgotten gym sock. Everything works in unison, intoxicatingly simple and balanced. It is without a doubt one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. Three ingredients. And it cost around $16.
The jambon de Paris is more like the sandwich I’d been imagining, the ham mild, delicate and almost juicy. Both sandwiches are filled generously with shaved ham and butter.
Surely, nothing could be better than this.
The next day, I arrive at Le Petit Vendome to find a line of maybe 25 people that stretches down the block. The party of four behind me are from Florida. They read online that this was the best sandwich in the world. In front are tourists from Germany. They had read the same.
Le Petit Vendome is a full-service restaurant with a menu of bistro classics in addition to the sandwiches. While there is ample seating on the restaurant’s patio, they don’t allow customers to order sandwiches at the tables. Even if you order a full meal. If you want to try “the best sandwich in the world,” you’ll need to wait.
After about an hour, we reach the front of the line. There’s one woman both taking orders and making the sandwiches. She’s kind and patient with every person who approaches her window with questions in a language that isn’t her own.
We order a sandwich with jambon de Paris and another with saucisson.
The baguette is fresh, soft and chewy, but there’s no crack or crunch to the crust. The ham is cut into substantial slices with a firm, meaty texture. Although there’s a good amount of butter, the ham, and the entire sandwich, are all in need of salt. That mind-boggling trifecta of flavors and textures we experienced yesterday was absent.
It’s a sandwich I’d eat again, but I regretted the hour we spent in line.
If you want the Caractère de Cochon sandwich, you’ll need to book a flight to Paris. But with a handful of ingredients sourced from shops and restaurants around Los Angeles, you can make something pretty similar. First, you’ll need a good baguette. The Clark Street bakeries and République restaurant make my favorite. They’re crusty and airy with just the right amount of chew. Clark Street also makes its own jambon beurre with Dijon mustard and cornichon.
For the butter and the ham, the Cheese Store of Beverly Hills carries a variety of French butter and ham. Ask for the best French butter in the shop and you’ll be presented with a small boulder of Bordier salted butter motte. I took home half a pound to make a couple of sandwiches and to eat with radishes for the rest of the week.
The shop carries both boiled and cured ham from France, and they’re happy to give you a taste to help you decide. Kindly request that they slice it thin.
Slather both sides of your baguette with a generous amount of butter. Think of the butter as an ingredient rather than a condiment. You want to be able to taste the butter in each bite. Then layer on a couple of slices of ham, but not too many that it overwhelms the bread or the butter. The key to this sandwich is balance, and for each ingredient to shine in unison.
There you have it. The best sandwich in the world, in your own kitchen.
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