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?