To be fair, most of the foods I’m going to prepare will most likely be poor representations of their actual counterpart. In other words, my french toast ain’t gonna be joining any culinary U.N. anytime soon. And I’ll show you the reason soon enough. First, let’s show off our base ingredients!
Deux œuf! That’s about all I learned from my one week of learning French from Rosetta Stone. There it is. The secret ingredient: two large eggs.
And what’s french toast without the bread? I ended up using three pieces of whole wheat. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any actual French bread… Traditional, indeed!
A dash of cinnamon!
A teaspoon of sugar. A teaspoon is like a little spoon, right? Not an actual measurement? Uh-oh. Well, let’s just hope everything turns out okay. I mean, if I use too much sugar, it’ll taste sweeter, and if I use too little sugar, it’ll be a little healthier… right? Win-win? Ah geez.
Whatever-the-hell-amount of butter for greasing up the pan. And yes, it’s whipped butter because I didn’t have anything else in that ole fridge of mine.
Yeah, that’s right. I already deviated from the recipe by using whole wheat bread and by mucking up the measurements, but this is what takes the cake in terms of bastardization. I didn’t have any milk (all I had was soy)! I contemplated for what seemed like an hour on what kind of milk to get in the dairy aisle of my local Stater Bros. I wasn’t going to get a whole gallon or even a quart, since I don’t really drink the stuff. And since I’m getting such a small amount, why not chocolatize it? Yeah, this is probably a bad idea. One cup of TruMoo chocolate milk.
Well, there they are! A recipe for disaster or greatness? We’ll see soon enough.