Before we begin, I know that I have posted about French toast before, and I know that this version is a little less traditionally sound, but I don’t actually care.
In celebration of the end of Blogging 201, I decided to make myself a little celebratory breakfast, but you could also say that this meal was a self-congratulations on making it to the end of the week alive.
The baguette being the exception, I don’t particularly fancy white bread – never have. And the sliced, white loaves that you find in French supermarkets are sickly sweet and dissolve in your mouth like fluffy plastic. That being said, I did buy a loaf for Bastille Day; I was making croquet-monsieurs and they do taste better with white bread.
Since then, the half eaten loaf had slowly been pushed further and further into the dark depths of the back of the fridge, next to the shrivelled carrots and half-eaten tubs of unnaturally coloured yoghurt (both of which belong to my colocs, not me). Not one to want to throw anything away, but also not being in a huge rush to eat it, I decided to treat myself.
It all depends on the staleness of your bread, but I work off the ‘algorithm’ of one egg and one gulp of milk to every three slices of bread. Whisk the milk and egg together with whatever additions you fancy; cinnamon, cocoa, or nutmeg and soak the bread, on both sides until as much of the liquid is absorbed up as possible.
Fry in melted butter until both sides reach the level of crunch that you so desire, use a medium heat to avoid burning and to warm the bread the whole way through. I lathered each slice with a healthy dollop of lemon curd, before topping with fried banana and a drizzle (more than a drizzle) of coffee cream sauce. If you freeze the banana before you fry it, the outside softens into a gooey, caramelised paste, but the centre remains cool and fresh with the flavour and consistency of banana ice-cream.
Even though French toast is generally considered a breakfast food, with this many elements I think it is socially acceptable to eaten any time of day. And anyway, as an adult, I don’t have to conform to social norms, I can do what I want – and if that means French toast for dinner, so be it!