Isn't it curious and amazing how a scent or a song or a taste can transport us to another place in time? And isn't it equally as wondrous how something one person may not give a second thought, can in turn make another weep with emotion? Growing up, we often had toasted white bread, spread with a pat of butter and layered with a good coating of cinnamon and sugar. But we never, ever put it in a bowl and saturated it with milk. Even now it makes me wince a teeny-tiny bit. I'm just not one for soggy bread. Yet, I do love French Toast. I suppose that's because it's not so much soggy as permeated...and it's only good if it has that crisp outer crust. So, that point is moot. But. Soggy bread. An idea I may not have entertained a mere 10 or so years ago, is now something I make on occasion. For my man. Because it brings him back to being a niño. A time without fuss or extravagance or money. It was a happy day when his mami was able to tear up some slightly hard pan, sprinkle it all with sugar and pour some fresh milk over the whole thing.
I like to add tiny variations to bring it to the present...like using Vanilla Sugar instead of plain. Or occasionally sprinkling in some cinnamon with the sugar. Or perhaps using a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread in place of plain. Either way, the little flutter of excitement when I set the bowl in front of him...or the far-off look in his eyes while he's eating it...or the full-belly pat of satisfaction when he's finished? It's totally worth it. Food is a powerful drug, my friends.
Now. Go make some memories.
*I'm sharing this post with:
Full Plate Thursday