Some weekends are perfect for french toast. I was sick all last week, and the cold was definitely presenting some major deterrents to venturing outside for more than the most important of errands, so some warm, comforting food seemed like it would do just the trick. I’d made french toast dozens of times before, but never with home-made bread, so I decided to try out the brioche recipe from my brand new baking bible and then use the bread to make french toast.
get all french like, over this way.
I miss my family sometimes. You see, most of them still live in Northern California, and what with my being holed up in Brooklyn with student loans to pay off and a pay cut to deal with, I don’t get to visit them nearly as much as I would like. But sometimes, Kenan has things to do in San Francisco, which means that we get to take a nice little trip out there to sling comics and gallivant in the hills and sip wine and stuff. Which is exactly what we did, just a couple weeks ago.
get your filling, over at girlcate.com
Coach‘s cherry tree bore fruit for the very first time, providing a little bunch of small, tart cherries with the kind of red color that I had previously believed only to exist in cartoons, or in tubes of lipstick. Coach, Boots, Kenan and I had been talking over dinner, a few days prior to the miraculous fruiting, about using the cherries to bake a pie when they ripened, but I suggested that we try a clafoutis, as I had never baked one before and as eating them constituted one of my mouth’s most treasured memories from living in France (and also, I’ve yet to meet a cherry pie that I was actually smitten with, although I’m open to the possibility). I remembered that I had a recipe for clafoutis from Tartine, which I was sure would at least be a good starting place, so I consulted said recipe and spent a little while researching this ubiquitous French dessert.
for ubiquitous deliciousness, lire la suite.