Last week I worked away from home much more than the norm. By Sunday my kids were a massive wreck. They had literally turned into mini-cavemen with only the capacity to repeat “MAHHH-MAHHHH” in deep, guttural grunts.
And all I wanted to do was go to The Orange Table and eat a giant plate of Bananas Foster French Toast.
There was NO WAY I was leaving the house with the Cro Magnon Duo, and Jonny was eyeballs deep in CBS Sunday Morning, so I had to bust out a comparable plate of goodness at home.
Bananas Foster French Toast
(makes 4 servings)
1/2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
4 tbsp unsalted butter
8 slices of day old, 1/2″ thick sliced bread (I used homemade english muffin bread)
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/4 cup dark spiced rum (or bourbon would be fantastic)
4 tbsp unsalted butter
1/4 cup chopped pecans
2 firm, but ripe, bananas (sliced)
whipped cream for topping
Whisk together the milk, heavy cream, eggs, vanilla extract, sugar, cinnamon and salt.
Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Dip the bread in the mixture and allow to soak up the goodness for around 15 seconds on each side. Transfer to a wire rack set over a sheet pan and let the soaked bread sit for around 2 minutes to absorb the custard.
Over medium-low heat, melt the first 4 tbsp of butter in a medium sized non-stick sauté pan. Place the bread (2 slices at a time) in the pan and cook until golden brown (2-3 minutes on each side) then transfer to a sheet pan in the preheated oven until all of the slices have been cooked.
In the same sauté pan, add the brown sugar and cook until it begins to melt. Remove the pan from the heat and add the rum (or bourbon) then return the pan to medium heat and whisk until the brown sugar has completely dissolved and the consistency becomes syrupy. Add the remaining 4 tbsp of butter and whisk to combine. Add the pecans and banana slices and gently stir to coat.
There is seriously no exaggeration in using the term “AH-MAZING” for this one, folks.
Mini-cavemen, and 36 year old curmudgeons alike, were lured away from smashing my things with tiny wooden hammers, and watching uncomfortably produced segments on “The Popularity of Mommy Porn”, to clean every last crumb from their plates.
Suffice it to say, this breakfast soothed the savage beasts. I may have even been rewarded with a nice mid-morning catnap.
Yup, a fine Sunday. A fine little Sunday, indeed.