Kiss Me and Tell Me It’s Not Broken

I’m feeling a bit broken. Or rather, battered and bruised. Charlee, Erica, and I went to kettle bell class last night. It was intense. Even the warm up was exhausting! And then we did a 20-minute, 9-station circuit (only 9 stations because only 9 people are crazy enough to go to kettle bell on a Friday evening). We had to run against an elastic bungee, do squats, work our arms on the TRX suspension system, then "mountain climbers," "super planks," hip lifts on one of those big balls, squat-twists with a medicine ball, lunges on a bosu ball, and then this crazy thing with a seriously heavy rope where we had to create waves. It was like a sadistic physics class. I’m not feeling as destroyed as the first time I did it, but I’m still hobbling around like an old woman.

I’ve added a ton of music to my iTunes in the last week, mostly from CD’s that I haven’t listened to in ages. At the moment I’m reveling in the slow, raw sexiness of the Romeo & Juliet soundtrack. Such a good movie and such a good album. I don’t know why I don’t have it on DVD or why this album hasn’t been a fixture on my computer for the last several years. Maybe I’m dating myself in admitting how much I love this music, but is there really anything more affecting than the music we loved as teenagers? Is it any wonder then that it would remind us of the first flush of love, the first rush of lust? In many ways, it just makes me smile. Seriously, I had so many posters of Leonardo DiCaprio on my walls!

Anyway, Charlee and Kelby came over this morning for brunch, which Alan has been obsessing about ever since his grandmother sent us her collection of recipes. He’s mostly just wanted to try this one recipe for baked French toast and would take anything as an excuse to make it. They hung out for a while, Alan and Kelby playing video games mostly. When they went home we went to Bed, Bath, & Beyond for a new toaster, because I don’t think I can actually function without the ability to quickly and easily toast bread. Then we hit up Target, where we happened to run into Charlee and Kelby again. We only got glass cleaner, but looked at some patio furniture, a not-to-expensive gas grill, and tennis rackets, because despite our lack of tennis courts here, there are public courts at a park down the street and even more at Bear Creek Park. I haven’t played since high school, but I enjoyed it then and didn’t completely suck at it. I’d like to play again. We also looked at some camping gear, because apparently we’re going camping with the Faulks sometime in May. Possibly over the Memorial Day weekend, since that’s the only long weekend the guys have.

Anyway, I’m mostly writing because I wanted to share this recipe. It really is amazing and much beloved by all of Gramma Kerry’s grandkids. She doesn’t list a source for it in her cookbook and I’m perfectly ready to believe that she made it up on her own. At any rate, it’s amazing and you should all try it.

Baked French Toast

1 loaf French bread, cut diagonally in 1-inch slices

6 eggs

1 1/2 C milk

1 C, 2 Tbsp. half and half

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 C (1 stick) butter

1 C packed brown sugar

3 Tbsp. light corn syrup

Butter a 9×13 baking dish. Arrange the slices of bread in the bottom. In a large bowl, beat together eggs, milk, half & half, vanilla, and cinnamon. Pour over bread. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

The next morning, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a small saucepan, combine butter, brown sugar, and corn syrup. Heat until bubbling. Pour over bread and egg mixture. Bake at 350, uncovered, for 40 minutes.

Enjoy! It doesn’t need any kind of syrup or powdered sugar. It’s divine all on its own. I’d post a picture of the deliciousness, but it didn’t make it through the day. It was breakfast and lunch.

~Liz

Random afterthought: I think I need a new color scheme. I like the pink and yellow and orange, but it’s starting to seem a bit too girly girl. I’m just not sure what I should change it to. Hmm….