Dear Readers,
Anjali finally wrote this recipe for her dreamy french toast. Enjoy.
RSW
I made French toast, and started writing this recipe about 14 years ago, back at the start of quarantine. And, back when the dark humor mixed with New Jersey sarcasm didn’t seem all that mean. Alas, it took me until today to finish writing this (I stopped after step 4, for some reason long forgotten) and now the imagery of a brunch at a restaurant with lots of humans feels a bit like a cruel tease. I wish I could say my delay is because I’m so on top of academic writing, but Rebecca is beating me on that front, too. At any rate, here’s a recipe from eras past:
Remember those weekend mornings of leisurely mimosa-filled brunches with all of your best pals? They may have occurred only four times in the past decade, but now is the time to reminisce and think about all the things you probably wouldn’t have been doing, if it weren’t for the quarantine.
French Toast
1. Find a loaf of challah or brioche (in our case this was pre-Ohio shelter-in-place – but in that week where I should have still felt guilty going to the grocery store just for bougie bread). Slice into about 8 thick slices.
2. Make a mixture of three eggs and almond milk, well combined. Add in vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Coat the bread slices in the mixture and let them soak for a few minutes, but not so many that it gets too gross.
3. Melt butter in a cast iron pan and cook the toast for about 3-4 minutes on each side (or until they look done).
4. Make whipped cream by putting heavy whipping cream in a mason jar, along with a splash of vanilla and a very small amount of sugar, and shaking the jar a lot, until it looks like whipped cream (and some of your guilt about eating this decadent breakfast has been assuaged).
5. Throw some whipped cream, strawberries, and real maple syrup on top.
6. Cook some fake sausage on the stovetop for a savory element.
7. Enjoy! (And, if you’re lucky enough to have mimosa supplies have one of those too, but remember that the correct ratio is that the orange juice is just there for a splash of color.
On a totally different note, this is how I feel about Rebecca’s peaNOT butter:
Admin note:
There is no picture. We ate this food ages ago. Like literally eons ago. They might not even still make brioche in this new world.
