I have been craving French Toast for at least four weeks. And I thought I wanted that nice fat Texas Toast you get in the mom and pop breakfast places that you only find when you are on vacation and not really looking. I wanted melted butter and (don’t judge me) fake syrup to smother it. I wanted at least two slices and crispy chewy bacon, no make that three slices. I dreamed of this French Toast.

I finally broke down the other day and bought a loaf of Texas Toast. I informed the family that on Friday morning (off Friday, work Saturday this week) I would be making French Toast. They seem puzzled as I frequently do pancakes or waffles, but I am pretty sure neither of them could think of the last time I had made the family French Toast.

I got up this morning and was baffled. I mean I know you have milk and egg and vanilla and some ground cinnamon and maybe a dash of Kahlua if you are feeling sassy… but I had no idea of ratios of how many or much of each. And then I did the thing you should never do when looking to decide how sick you are or how to cook something, I googled it. There are seven thousand, nine hundred and forty seven French Toast recipes and those are just the ones in English.

And it hit me. I wanted my mom’s French Toast. I wanted her recipe. Which was beyond absurd as the woman spent 70 years never using a recipe for anything. It made her everything-in-its-place, recipe-needing daughter a bit insane. I still cannot make a decent white sauce because every time she showed me how, it was a tad different. Out of that, meh use this. One time I was attempting to make deviled eggs and I used pickle juice? And she was all why would you do THAT? And I was because last time you did and she was like yeah, because I was out of vinegar. :face palm:  So her recipe for French Toast would probably be something like 3 eggs, oops nope only have two, two eggs, and a splash of milk, nope healthier splash oops that is a bit much ok never mind. Some cinnamon, bit more, ok some vanilla, yup looks good maybe some salt or a bit of sugar or eye of newt. Ok maybe not that last part, but for someone who has no idea what they were doing … it seemed like that!

I tried this morning by looking at some recipes and adapting them and sort of just trying to go with her devil may care cooking vibe. It was ok. They ate it and seemed to enjoy it. I ate it knowing it was not hers, knowing I would not have hers again in this go around at life and hopeful one day I would pop in some mom and pop spot on vacation and eat the perfect French Toast, take a bite, laugh and order more (and maybe beg for the actual recipe).

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