Posts Tagged ‘breakfast’

French toast 101

May 30th, 2009

My friend Amy Sherman, who writes Cooking with Amy, knows I’m not much of a cook (a far different thing than a baker). Long ago, she recommended Mark Bittmans’s How To Cook Everything and it’s become my go-to answer book in the kitchen. Today’s quest: French toast—which I never make, even though it couldn’t be more straightforward:

French Toast
1 cup milk
2 eggs
splash of vanilla (What doesn’t taste better with vanilla?)
bread
butter for griddle

Carter cracked the eggs flawlessly and stirred them with the milk. A little too gently, until I gave him the cue “just like with scrambled eggs.” then it was: “Hey, Mommy, it turned yellow!” He dipped; I cooked. Biggest challenge: stove heat and timing. (Any advice?) Daddy had three pieces, Mommy had two, and Carter had one—which was just right.

Carter’s tip: Skip the maple syrup, and make a jelly sandwich. Works great with pancakes, too.

Feed me, I’m yours

May 29th, 2009

I confess: my child eats a Trader Joe’s “A Strawberry Walked into a Bar” strawberry breakfast bar, well, just about every morning. Plus one or two FruitaBu organic smoshed fruit bars, which we subscribe to in bulk from Amazon. We put them out the night before along with his vitamins to help streamline the morning routine. I contemplated looking for a recipe and baking breakfast bars, but I couldn’t even buy the ingredients for what one box of six bars costs: $1.69.

I fed Carter this breakfast in the car this morning. Jeff was annoyed with us because Carter had time to eat at home, didn’t, and had already brushed his teeth. Truth is: I’ll even feed Carter whenever he says he’s hungry, even after he’s in bed—a ploy to stay up later in Jeff’s estimation. But my sense of being a good mother is intrinsically tied to feeding my child. Plus, on the practical side, I know how crabby I get when I get hungry (Jeff’s travel rule: my wake-up call is room service delivering breakfast.), and I don’t want to risk it with my son. What mother would?

Family dinner: Carter and I both like Jeff’s marinated, grilled turkey burgers. And the butter and honey I put on the fresh carrots made them “more palatable” to Jeff. I’m too full for the Marie Callendar’s Kahlua cream cheese pie the boys surprised me with.

Carter dug into the cherry one.

Over the bridge

May 23rd, 2009

I finally, for the first time, ate breakfast at the Dublin Country Waffles with the boys.

My husband and his former roommate, Danilo, have been going to breakfast with each other most Saturdays since Jeff moved back to the Bay Area in 1990.

When I became Jeff’s Palo Alto roommate and Danilo moved up to San Ramon, they started alternating locations. One week, Danilo would drive just shy of an hour each way so they could eat at their old stomping grounds, El Paso in Mountain View. The next, Jeff would be the one to cross bridges in quest of breakfast. All so they can sit, eat, read the papers, and generally not say much.

Carter has been many times (and I think Danilo misses him when he’s not there), but this was my first sojourn to the Waffle House. While I didn’t have a waffle, I can recommend the omelets. The waitresses sprinkle in a lot of “Honeys and “Dears,” and your coffee cup is always full. Dumbarton or San Mateo bridge? Carter makes the call, and I’m there.

Carter: Breakfast is all about salty meat: serve bacon, sausage, or better both, and I’m there.