Sweetest French Toast Ever

Something about the winter makes me want to eat heavy, nap-inducing meals (which means maybe I shouldn't complain about being gifted 1/3 of pig this past fall - seriously, I would rejoice for recipes that call for pork of all varieties). The Family Recipe Box is usually opened to such dishes this time of year. That's why when I heard a rumor that there was a casserole that centered on French toast, I had to find it. The Gooseberry Patch Cozy Country Christmas cookbook delivered. Mmmm, bread, eggs, 5 gallons of liquified sugar....eureka!

French Toast Casserole

1 cup brown sugar, packed 1/2 cup butter 2 cups light corn syrup (I added the "light" part; you'll see why) 1 loaf French bread, sliced 3/4 inch thick 5 eggs 1 1/2 cup milk 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Garnish: powdered sugar, pancake syrup (if your teeth can stand it)

Melt together brown sugar, butter, and corn syrup in a saucepan over low heat; pour into a greased 13x9 baking pan. Arrange bread slices over mixture and set aside. Mix eggs, milk and vanilla with a whisk; pour over bread, coating all slices. Cover and refrigerate overnight. Uncover and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, or until light golden. Sprinkle with powdered sugar; serve with warm syrup.

Nothing better than a sugar rush in the morning.

"All right, Elli, let's do this."

"Do dis."

"Let's start with the butter." I sliced up the butter and she took over plopping it in the saucepan (which I had sitting on the counter, by the way, to keep her away from the heat).

Then I packed the brown sugar and pushed the full cup over to Elli. "Go ahead and pour the sugar into the pan," I told her.

She practically needed both hands to lift up the cup and PLOP! the whole chunck of sugar went into the pan. Next came the corn syrup.

"2 cups!" I said, reading the recipe. "Man alive. Is that right?"

"Yeah," Elli said reassuringly.

"If you say so," I said, and began pouring the syrup in the measuring cup. Turns out 2 cups was equated to exactly the amount in the bottle I bought. It also turns out that Elli likes the taste of corn syrup.

She repeatedly tried to steal the measuring cup from my hand as I tried to scrap out the sticky residue. "Mmmm, dats good," she said, when her tongue was actually in her mouth.

So, I quickly transported the pot of diabetic coma to the stove to begin the melting process, and Elli and I turned to stirring together the milk, vanilla and eggs. I poured the milk into the measuring cup, and Elli handled pouring it into the mixing bowl. "Let's crack the eggs," I told Elli.

"Cack eggs."

"Ready?"

She counted as I 'cacked.' "Wwwooon....twoooo...theeeee....foooor......wwwwon."

"Very good, sweetpea. Want to stir?"

"Yeah."

"I knew you would." I handed her the wisk.

She took it like a professional chef. "Ster, ster, ster," she sang to her delicate mixture.

Seriously, she deserves her own cooking show. I would watch it. Wouldn't you?

She was ready for more. Unfortunately, the liquified sugar was not quite ready; the recipe made it seem so easy...oh, just melt it together... . No mention of the length of time this would take. So, at this point, we took an intermission. Elli went to play in her new play kitchen (thanks, Santa), and I hovered around the stove waiting for the butter chunks to slowly disappear.

What seemed like three weeks later, everything was finally melded together, forming what looked like thick maple syrup. I wondered if I should have just used maple syrup.

"Elli, time to pour!" Elli raced into the kitchen as I poured the syrup into the greased baking dish. Elli immediately dipped her finger in it, despite my "that's hot" warning. "Keep your fingers out of the sauce, please," I said. That stopped her for all of 30 seconds. I walked four feet to grab a scrapper, and she dipped her finger in again.

"That's not what keeping your fingers out of the sauce looks like, Elli." She giggled. "Let's put down the bread. Can you grab the bread and put it in the pan?" She took the slices of bread from the cutting board and carefully placed them at random in the syrup-lined pan, only sparadically taking a taste of the syrup.

"Nicely done. That's exactly where I would put the bread slices. Now let's pour on the egg mixture."

She helped me pick up the mixing bowl and pour the egg mixture over the top of the bread. We had to work extra hard to keep our fingers out of this sauce. I decided to take the pan with me this time when I walked a few feet to get a piece of plastic wrap to cover the pan. (Once bitten, twice shy.)

"Elli, can you start cleaning up?"

Sure she can, if by "clean up" you mean collect all the bread crumbs in my hand and shove them in my mouth.

Well, the crumbs disappeared; who cares to where.

The next morning, the smell of fresh-from-the-oven French Bread Casserole basted in its wading pool of syrup wafted through the house and made all the brutal cold and inches of snow outside seem so very unimportant.

Ahhh, home sweet home. And I do mean sweet.

Things Elli Could Do:

Put ingredients (butter, sugar) in pot Help count and crack eggs (both with fairly good precision) Pour milk Stir egg mixture Sing to egg mixture Help grease pan Put bread slices in pan Help pour egg mixture over bread

Overall French Toast Casserole Ratings (5 being the best):

Elli-friendly cooking: 4 Elli-friendly eating: 5 Simple: 5 Fast: 1 Frugal: 4

Question of the Week: What sinful delights are stashed in your kitchen?

Borrow a Cup of Sugar Cookies

In the bleak, metaphorical tundra that is January, the only thing I can think to do to keep cabin fever at bay is seek out bright spots, like "Golden Girls" reruns on Monday night, snuggling with Daddy in bed with a good movie and bowl of fresh popcorn, or random acts of kindness from our neighbors.

We received the blessing of the latter just the other weekend. When we arrived home after a few days and one snowstorm out of town, we discovered that our neighbor had shoveled the snow off our sidewalk and was starting on the driveway. He explained that because he wasn't sure what time we would get home he was worried we would arrive in the dark and be struggling to get the snow shoveled.

A thank-you card, I decided, is not a strong enough vessel to carry our gratitude. But, "thank you" spelled in sugar cookies just might do the trick. Sugar cookies are, after all, a home fire's preferred companion.

"Elli, want to make some cookies?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Let's do it!"

Thus began our longest cooking adventure yet.

(Note: this recipe is from a special Peanuts-branded sugar cookie mix, produced by the "Good Grief Bakery." The mix was a Christmas gift. I've included the recipe here, though I'm not sure it will do you much good.)

Snoopy's Vanilla Sugar Cookie Mix

1/2 cup butter, softened

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 sugar cookie mix

1 egg

1/4 teaspoon lemon extract (optional, at least for me because I didn't want to spend $7 on a little bottle of extract I had no other use for)

In large bowl, cut butter into mix until crumbly. In separate bowl, beat egg, vanilla and lemon until light and fluffy. Pour into the dry ingredients and mix until well blended. Cover bowl and place in refrigerator for 1 hour. Preheat over to 350 degrees. On floured sourface, roll out dough to 1/4 inch thickness. Cut into desired shapes. Place on cookie sheet and back 10-12 minuts or until the edges begin to brown. Allow to cool and frost, if desired.

I lined up the numerous little containers of sprinkles I have on one side of the L in the kitchen counter. Elli looked at them and then up at me expectantly.

"See all the sprinkles?" I asked her. "Pick out the ones you want to use on the cookies, and place them over here on this side of the counter. Elli, I want you to look at all these sprinkles.

She giggled and started her work. She chose the green...and then the tiny Christmas trees...the gingerbread men...the multi-colored mini balls...the confetti-like sprinkles....and every other container, except one.

Oddly enough, it was the red sprinkles she left behind. She loves red. Or, at least, she loves saying "red."

"You sure you don't want the red?" I asked, pointing over at the lone container.

"No, no red," she replied.

"All right. If you say so. Well, let's get started on the cookies. It's time to pour the mix into the bowl. You're up." I handed her the bag of mix and gently guided her hands so that the mix would not poof out everywhere. She handled it like a pro, and the mix landed safely in the stainless steel bowl of the stand mixer. Next up: butter. I sliced the butter and she dropped it in the bowl. She watched patiently as I used the mixer's blade to cut in the butter.

She did not try to eat the mix or the butter--a noteworthy event for a sweet girl with a documented and inexplicable taste for empty frozen veggie bags. Similarly, she abstained from trying to eat the egg shell. I have to say, though, she really has picked up on egg-cracking quite well. She hasn't done it often in her young life, but she knew exactly how much force to use to crack the egg on the side of the bowl. I would brag if egg-cracking were really that impressive of a talent. Of course, if she starts cracking, splitting and pouring the egg in one hand in under 3 seconds, I'm calling the media.

We beat together the egg and vanilla until it was what I guessed was the "fluffy" the Good Grief Bakery had in mind. Then she helped me pour the liquids into the mixer's bowl and switch on the blade.

Oh! the smell that rose from the forming dough. It was heavenly.

"Doesn't that smell good, Elli? Can you smell it?" I sniffed, and she mimmicked my sniff. "Mmm, good."

"ess good," she said with a grin.

"You bet it is good. Our neighbors are really going to like these cookies you are making for them."

The batter smelled so good, my mouth watered. Being an adult (by some measures, anyway), I have finely honed self-control. Elli, on the other hand, has a ways to go. She whimpered like a puppy when I covered up the bowl with cling wrap to put in the refrigerator.

"Eat! Eat!" she insisted. I would soon find out that her insistance was more of a threat than a request.

After an hour of chill time (for both the dough and for us), we got the dough out of the refrigerator in preparation for the rolling. This would be Elli's first rolling experience.

At first she did well resisting the temptation to eat the dough. Of course, that was probably because I distracted her with the concept of taking a cookie cutter and smacking it down into the dough.

But, apparently, smacks get boring. Eating, however, does not.

Loves to eat.

Eating is her favorite.

"OK," I said, pulling the dough out of her reach, "how about you put some sprinkles on the cookies? Daddy can help you." I set her and Daddy up on one side of the table doing the sprinkles while I continued to roll and cut on the other side. Elli didn't so much sprinkle as douse the cookies. But fortunately, we could return some of the strays to their containers.

"Those are beautiful," I told her. Our odyssey was put on pause for the sake of bedtime. In the morning, we iced the cookies (and licked the beaters), creating a beautiful and well-received thank-you card for our thoughtful neighbors.

Who needs Hallmark?

Things Elli Could Do:

• Pour ingredients into bowl
• Mix ingredients together
• Help spread flour onto counter
• Identify letter cookie cutters
• Smack down cutters into dough
• Man the sprinkles
• "Clean" the icing off the beaters

Overall Sugar Cookie Ratings (5 being best):

Elli-friendly cooking: 4

Elli-friendly eating: do I seriously need to give a rating?

Simple: 4

Fast: 1

Frugal: 4

Question of the Week: What makes a good neighbor?

Potato Soup and "Just Like Play-Doh" Breadsticks

Recently Elli discovered the wonder that is Play-Doh. It fascinates her, which is a great thing now that the temperature outside remains as low as the interest rates and we are forced to remain in the stagnant indoors. The other day she was completely taken with the "doh."

I'm sure the real deal doesn't stick to the kitchen table nearly as bad as this stuff, but who cares. Elli is fascinated by it and I was able to get in some prep work for our cooking adventure.

Potato Soup

1 package au gratin potatoes

1 can whole kernel corn, drained

1 can diced tomatoe, undrained

2 cups water

2 cups milk

2 cups cubed process American cheese

Dash hot pepper sauce, if desired

In 3-quart saucepan, combine first 4 ingredients; mix well. Bring to boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer for 15 to 18 minutes, or until potatoes are tender. Add milk, cheese and hot pepper sauce if desired; cook and stir until cheese is melted. - taken from Taste of Home's 1999 Quick Cooking.

Before I brought Elli in on this adventure, I set out all the ingredients and opened all the cans, measured the water, etc. When she saw me put on my apron, she started asking for her steps (stepladder to reach the counter).

I set the pan on the counter near her and handed her each ingredient one at a time.

"Potatoes," I told her, as I handed her the box.

"Tatoes."

"Corn."

"Kewn."

"What color is the corn?"

She stopped, examined the contents of the can, then said, "Yahyo."

"That's right! Yellow. Very good." She is getting to better and better at knowing her colors. "And I bet you know the color of the tomatoes."

Did she ever. "Red!"

"Excellent work, Elli. Can you pour the red tomatoes into the pan?"

"Red maytoes pan," she said, dumping the can's contents into the pan.

"You are so good at this, Elli. Should I just turn you loose?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

She has also taken to saying no to everything, even if it's something she does want to do. "OK, then. I'll stick around. How about we pour in the water?"

"Wawa." I guided her hands as she picked up the Pyrex measuring cup and poured the water into the pan.

"Now we stir."

She did a fabulous job. As I mentioned in the Saturday Morning Scrambled Eggs adventure, her stirring skills have really taken off recently. I suppose that means she's growing up. Sigh.

"How do you think it looks?" I asked her. "Let's take a look at the mixture." We studied the contents of the pan together.

"Do you think it's mixed up enough?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Great, well, let's get this on the stove."

"Stoff."

"Is the stove cold or hot?"

"Hot!" she replied, waving her hand back and forth as if fanning the heat rays away from her. "No tuch."

"Exactly. No touch."

I started the mixture to boiling and brought out the next step in our adventure: breadsticks.

"Pan!" Elli exclaimed when she saw me get out the jellyroll pan and set it on the counter in front of her. I'm not sure why the sight of a jellyroll pan would make her react in such a way. Maybe she remembers the cookies I once burnt on this pan. But maybe she was just really happy that there was more to this adventure than what we had already done.

"We're going to make breadsticks," I told her.

Let me say here that I had never fixed refrigerated breadsticks before. Crescent rolls, biscuits, frozen garlic bread -- yeah, and old hat for me. This was new territory, but I figured how hard could it possibly be. It probably isn't all that hard if you actually read the directions.

We just opened the can and went for it. They come wrapped in a circle, so step 1 was to unroll the dough. I showed Elli how to hold one end of the dough and roll out the rest into one long strip then gave her one to try out.

She did fairly well with it, after I explained to her, admittedly a little too late, that we do not ball out the dough and smash it flat like with Play-Doh. But, also much like Play-Doh, this breadstick dough can be molded back into shape. This latter knowledge came in handy when it was Mommy's turn to commit an ooops. You see, Mommy thought that the long strips of dough looked funny and decided to tear them in half to make individual breadsticks. Only then did Mommy read the instructions: Do no separate into individual breadsticks.

"Oops," I said. "Oh well, Elli. That's all right. If we make a mistake, it's not the end of the world. We can find a way to fix it."

"Fiss it."

I gently pressed the dough together as best I could in an attempt to recreate the long sticks of dough. "See, Elli, just like Play-Doh."

We then slathered the garlic butter that came with the dough over the tops of the somewhat-conjoined breadsticks and put them in the oven. We turned our attention back to the soup, focusing on cutting up the Velveeta.

"Cheeeese!" she said with delight. "Wan some. Wan some, Mommy."

"You can have some cheese. Just a bite."

She took the small piece I gave her with delight. I could feel an appeal for another bite coming on, so I headed it off by giving her the Velveeta box to play with. Fortunately, the move worked.

She was a one-man percussion section, like the little drummer boy sans holy family.

While she found various ways to make noise with a cardboard cheese holder, I finished off the soup, adding the milk and cheese. The recipe at this point calls for adding the hot sauce if desired. I did not desire. The soup was wonderful without it. Even Elli devoured it. The breadsticks were a little, shall we say, asymmetrical, but what fun we had!

Things Elli could do:

help pour ingredients in pan

mix ingredients (if there were a contest for this skill, she would win hands down)

unroll breadstick dough

help reassemble breadstick dough to its intended form

help spread garlic butter on dough

Overall Potato Soup and Breadsticks Ratings:

Elli-friendly cooking: 4

Elli-friendly eating: 4

Simple: 5

Fast: 5

Frugal: 5

Question of the Week: What cold-weather activities do you have planned for you and/or your family?