French Toast

I am a firm believer that if a person does not love breakfast they do not love life. Maybe those people who do agree are morning people. The morning is a magical time of the day. There is stillness, a peacefulness that captivates the dwelling. As I walk across the house, room to room, hoping not to wake anyone else, I make my way directly to the kitchen. I automatically make coffee because my very happiness and sanity depends on it. And then, robe and slippers and coffee and all, I look outside and thank God for the day. After a few moments, I slide back into the kitchen and with as little noise as possible make a beautiful breakfast. One of my favorites is French toast. I remember watching my Paw-Paw make French toast. He made his with a copious amount of sugar, which satisfies any Southerners sweet tooth. The smell of cinnamon and butter cooking together brings me back to the mornings with Grannie and Paw-Paw. They made breakfast a special time. It was in that one moment that we spent time together before the chaos of the day began. So as I stand there, spatula in one hand and coffee in the other, I am reminded of home and thankful for the privilege of passing down this tradition of family.

Recipe: Serves 6

 12 slices of bread

6 eggs

1 cup of milk

½ cup of white sugar

¼ cup of brown sugar

1 teaspoon of vanilla

2 teaspoons of cinnamon

2 tablespoons of butter

Whisk eggs, milk, sugars, vanilla, and cinnamon together. Heat a nonstick skillet on medium heat and add just a little of the butter. Soak the pieces of bread in the egg mixture, just two at a time. Cook the bread in the skillet just until the bread is crispy on the outsides. Serve immediately.

* I usually make a tester piece of bread, just in case I feel a little more sweet, vanilla-y or cinnamon-y that particular day! It has to meet my standards.