But no catsup, please

Today is Wednesday which means, at our house, it’s French toast for breakfast.

But when I woke up this morning, French toast didn’t sound appealing. Maybe my system is surfeited with sugar, thanks to all the Christmas cookies, the lemon-meringue pie and the pumpkin pie that we’ve splurged on–so far–this Christmas season. Adding maple syrup to the mix felt, to my stomach, like overkill.

“Didn’t you tell me the Europeans put catsup on their French toast?” George reminded me as we lay in bed having our pre-get up conversation. “Maybe they do theirs savory.”

I mumbled “egads” under my breath–savory French toast?–but George heard me.

“Aw, you have no imagination,” he said.

To a cook, them’s fighting words!

So, while he padded off to the computer to check for possible surprises in his email, I headed to kitchen with fire in my eye and a slight smirk on my face. Here’s what I did.

Instead of adding a pinch of salt and almond flavoring to the beaten eggs, I upped the salt just a bit and added generous amounts of garlic powder and pepper–the things that usually go into my scrambled eggs. I dipped slices of English muffin bread into the mixture and dropped them into the pan, where I use grape-seed oil because it’s better for you than most other oils, and has a higher flash point than olive oil. It’s also taste neutral.

When one side was done and I’d flipped them over, I sprinkled savory-french-toastgrated pepper jack cheese on top, and it melted while the second side was cooking. I plated the toast, added a strip of bacon–usually saved for Saturday–and called George to the table.

The savory French toast was a hit. Not sure what the French would think of it, and I sure would never put catsup on it, but at least I proved that there’s still a little bit of imagination lurking in the recesses of my sugar-fogged brain.


About Monica Sawyn

I'm a retired newspaper reporter/columnist, and although I still freelance, I miss the weekly column I used to write. I still "see columns" in everyday life and need a place to put them after they're written--thus, this blog. I'm Catholic, have been a Benedictine oblate since 1977, and live with my husband and our beagle in Sturgeon Bay, Wis. When I'm not writing, I'm probably reading, sewing, taking photos or walking the dog.
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2 Responses to But no catsup, please

  1. blb1 says:

    My husband’s breakfast is always a big bowl of cheerios maybe a fruit on top, coffee, and with that an oatmeal cookie. That’s it, he will eat NOTHING else. I can’t even get him to eat a smaller bowl of cereal. But his bs is better than mine in the morning.

    • Monica Sawyn says:

      It always amazes me that some people eat really good food, some eat really bad food, and those same people can all be healthy–despite what the experts advise. I think I’d get really bored having Cheerios every morning, but then, I eat toast and peanut butter most days and don’t get tired of that. Different strokes for different folks, eh?

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