Now, put zee caramelized apples on top of zee French toast and voilà! Ve have a breakfast treat that will send you waddling out the door or collapsing to the floor.
Zee recommended French toast prep:
First, add a slab of butter and copious amounts of syrup.
Note: the butter should float in zee syrup, like a rubber ducky, and perhaps if you’re lucky, zee butter and French toast will set sail for Paris, docking at a café in time for lunch.
Second, zee French toast should spring back when prodded with a finger. Fluffy and stuffy and mucho fattening, exceeding the national carb count allowed for breakfast. An easy fix if you bump up zee French toast to lunch.
Afterward, a siesta is in order, to sleep off the free-fall sugar plunge and carb meltdown from the fatty acid butter blast.
Ah, such a treat. Zee veins play games with chunks of plaque that speed through the arteries, toward zee heart, like a sled on a luge track.
Game over once you cross the finish line, but oh, what a ride! Such a tasty thrill-seeker’s treat before zee plaque hits the coroner’s target on the coronary wall.
I see the light!
No, you don’t!
It’s dark in the otherworldly waiting room. No candles allowed.
That’s why the next step is highly recommended.
Third, put zee French toast back on zee plate and flambé it.
Now, you can see the light.
Parlez-vous French toast?
Endnote: I’ve always felt like a dumbass because I couldn’t speak French. But the realization of my language deficit didn’t hit center stage until after I saw the play, Les Misérables, and couldn’t pronounce it. This post is dedicated to my pathetic French language skills. With that said, “Yo hablo poquito Espanol.”