French toast has so many names.
French toast. Eggy Bread. Torrijas. Pain perdu. I like calling it pain perdu which when translated means something like “lost bread”. Doesn’t that just sound so sad and wistful? Clearly the phrase “lost bread” appeals to my inner angst and dramatic sensibilities but in reality pain perdu is anything but sad. It is delicious. Thick slabs of stale brioche or challah dunked in an eggy, milky vanillary mixture and fried in butter, served with lashings of maple syrup and berries and ice cream if you are feeling particularly deserving.
I love baking my own bread, but if you don’t eat it within two days its not much good for anything really except pain perdu. Last post I had baked a Nutella swirl brioche which made for a really decadent and delicious version of French Toast but really you can use any old bread. Sourdough, challah, wonder-white whatever! I topped it with maple syrup, crushed pecans, fresh blueberries and a dollop of vanilla ice cream. Again top it with whatever you like, whatever is in season or whatever you have on hand. One of the blueberries landed smack bang in the middle of the ice cream, while i was eating I couldn't help thinking it looked like a little boob staring up at me.