Last night, I made French toast for my roommates. Aroldo had requested in my first weeks here that we make pancakes together at some point over the next three months, so I had Oliver bring a jug of maple syrup from home when he visited.
In any event, I said I would cook dinner last night for everyone. I really only had to come up with a vessel for the maple syrup and I love French toast, so it was an easy pick. Simple, homey, delicious and easy to execute for a group. I made a simple custard with heavy cream, eggs, vanilla extract (couldn't find beans), cinnamon, sugar and rum. In addition, I found icing sugar (as they call it here) some strawberries and a couple loaves of brioche.
My greatest amusement came from the way my roommates continually inspected the maple syrup that I had warmed and put in a mug in the center of our kitchen table. They looked at it like it was fungus and stared at it with a mixture of disgust and intense curiosity. I laughed when they kept daring each other to try it. Finally someone took the plunge, stuck their finger in, and took a lick. "Bueno?!?" everyone asked.
It was slightly unnerving to be cooking for all eleven of my roommates. I didn't expect to feel any pressure, but I did. I guess it came out OK, because unbeknownst to me, Julia took this picture and sent it to her mom in Brazil. (It doesn't have any syrup or butter on it...I let them dress their French toast as they wished.)
No comments:
Post a Comment