A few days ago, I had Erev Rosh Hashanah dinner with my mother at the dining facility of her residential community, prior to services. A special accompaniment to this dinner was a vast circular challah, far more bread than we could eat. I took the rest of it home with a plan. This morning, relaxed Sunday day, I used the now slightly-aged challah to make French toast for B. and myself. I had eggs, I had milk, I had recipes with vastly differing ideas of the proportions thereof and of what, if anything, should be added to it. What I had forgotten to get was maple syrup. I'm getting better at remembering that, for instance, if we're having quesadillas or refritos I should get sour cream, but breakfast cooking being more unusual for me, this slipped my mind. So, rush out and return with bottle, successfully cook toast.
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