Our French Toast Sundays

The fixings for French toast on the counter this morning; Abby says my French toast is the best.
The fixings for French toast on the counter this morning; Abby says my French toast is the best.

Recently my wife Abby and I have gotten ourselves into a happy little rut: I make French toast for her on Sunday mornings.

Fresh-cut cantaloupe out of the garden; the one I diced up for Abby was the size of a baseball, but mine was full-sized.
Fresh-cut cantaloupe out of the garden; the one I diced up for Abby was the size of a baseball, but mine was full-sized.

It’s not always pretty. I’m not a visually skilled chef like my brother-in-law Tracey, who can make French toast fit for a magazine ad. I also make ugly but delicious vegetable omelettes, which I make for myself on these Sundays.

This Sunday was no exception, and may have been even better because there was so much in our meals that came from the garden: for my omelette there was red onion, bell pepper, and a tomato. As our side dish, we both had cantaloupe, for which I have waited all summer.

Much of the time, these Sundays have plans that are shelved in favor of tv movies or Chihuahua-covered naps, but the chores get done later, and our Sunday ends up being a place of quiet intimacy.

Bell pepper, red onion, and tomato: all became part of my breakfast.
Bell pepper, red onion, and tomato: all became part of my breakfast.
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3 Comments

  1. Once, Tracey made a breakfast dish shaped exactly like bora bora. The center island was a crossaint and the atoll was bacon.

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  2. Thanks for mentioning me and spelling my name correctly. I’m very flattered by your praises of my culinary expertise. I love cooking for an appreciative audience. Thank you again. God bless you, brother. btw: the pictures look great!

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