I'm not a big fan of sweet breakfast food. You're more likely to see me enjoying a fried egg than a donut (though I'll totally eat the donut at another point in the day), and you won't see me near pancakes or waffles. French toast, however, is a different story.
Growing up my mom typically made chorizo and eggs or omelets for breakfast. On special occasions (or maybe we were just running low on eggs) she would make French toast. Instead of syrup she topped the toast with powdered sugar. And instead of cutting the bread, she simply folded the slices in half and declared them to be "French toast tacos"!
I could fill pages upon pages with my memories of my family's cooking. Meals shared together at my parents' dining room table allowed us to bond as a family. Our happiest times and some of our most difficult times occurred during mealtime. Gosh, I'd love to tell you all the stories.
This weekend I reread A Homemade Life, one of my very favorite books and was overjoyed that we had some near-stale French bread for me to use to make the French toast recipe found in there. I didn't use white bread like my mom did, and I didn't fold them in half and declare them tacos, but I made sure to add her secret ingredient: love.