I call my French toast Pan Purdue when it’s as delicious as the Pan Purdue at Lucille’s. Especially when I am also drinking the hickory coffee that my loving father sent me from Cafe du Monde. It was all very Creole. Dave doesn’t like chicory coffee, so this all obviously took place when Dave and Luke were in Crested Butte for Fat Bike Worlds. Jack and I treated ourselves (I treated Jack) to a couple yummy breakfasts.
I made this bread the night before from the new cookbook that my sister in law got me for my birthday: Flour Water Salt Yeast. (Thanks Suzanne!). Then I haphazardly threw together eggs, milk, vanilla, brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. As I was making the egg mixture I was imagining teaching my grandkids how to make French toast, (can’t get my kids interested so I am biding my time) and I imagined myself saying, “Just a hint of nutmeg, it’s the secret ingredient.” But I was paying more attention to my imaginary, loving and attentive grandchildren then to what I was doing and I put more than a hint of nutmeg in. I opened the wrong side of the spice jar, and let’s just go ahead and call it a teaspoon. Maybe two. Regardless, the French toast was delicious.
We had the Pan Purdue on Saturday, and not just because Friday’s breakfast was less than photo perfect. Friday, I made oatmeal blueberry pancakes.
I made a full recipe, and Jack ate everything except these two burnt pancakes. That’s all that was left for me. I need to perfect the recipe before I share, but it’s basically oats, whole wheat flour, and then the usual. I’m so glad I made it when it was just Jack and I because… it doesn’t make that many. They are very hearty, but Jack still said they tasted like an oatmeal cookie. They would probably be good leftover too, but I may never know.