I firmly believe that if a person doesn’t like breakfast, he doesn’t like life. Maybe those people who agree are larks. Morning is a magical time of day. There is a stillness, a peace that enchants the dwelling. I walk around the house from room to room, hoping not to wake anyone, and head straight for the kitchen. I automatically make coffee, because my very happiness and sanity depends on it. And then, robe, slippers, coffee and all, I look outside and thank God for the day. After a few moments, I slip back into the kitchen and make a lovely breakfast as quietly as possible. One of my favorites is French toast. I remember watching my Papa-Paw make French toast. He made it with copious amounts of sugar that would satisfy any Southerner addicted to sweets. The smell of cinnamon and butter cooked together brings me back to mornings with Grandma and Papa. They made breakfast at a special time. It was the very moment we spent time together before the day’s chaos began. So as I stand there with a spatula in one hand and coffee in the other, I am reminded of home and grateful for the privilege of passing on this family tradition.
Recipe: Portions of 6.
12 slices of bread
6 eggs
1 cup milk
½ cup white sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 teaspoons cinnamon
2 tablespoons butter
Whisk together eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla and cinnamon. Heat a non-stick skillet over medium heat and add a little butter. Soak the bread slices in the egg mixture, two at a time. Cook the bread in the pan just until it is crispy on the outside. Serve immediately.
- I usually make a test slice of bread just in case I’m feeling a little sweeter, vanilla or cinnamon on that particular day! It should meet my standards.