I made chocolate French toast for lunch today. It seemed like it might tempt me (still working on regaining appetite post-surgery) and
cattitude (who has a cold). That it did. It was quite rich, enough so that Cattitude said he thought there might be too much chocolate in the bread, which takes some doing. I wouldn't want this very often—it's one of those things that feels like eating dessert for lunch—but it was very nice.
Thanks to
mrissa for the idea, and
papersky for encouraging me to buy the chocolate bread at Premier Moisson last month: when I got home from Montreal, I froze five slices, which turned out to be enough for French toast for two not ridiculously hungry people, and just fit in our large frying pan. (Five slices because that's what fit in one quart freezer bag.)
This also goes under signs of recovery: it's the first meal I've made for both of us, and only the second that feels like real cooking, since I got home from the hospital. (Canned soup doesn't count, even if I add some cooked chicken and dried chives.)
Thanks to
This also goes under signs of recovery: it's the first meal I've made for both of us, and only the second that feels like real cooking, since I got home from the hospital. (Canned soup doesn't count, even if I add some cooked chicken and dried chives.)
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