Every week we’ll post a recipe that we both made. This week’s recipe was Crockpot French Toast, found over at Moms with Crockpots. Printable recipe can be found at the bottom of this post.  

Robyn’s Take:

This week’s recipe was Nance’s choice, and I was all two-thumbs-up because it looked pretty damn easy!

Important things to keep in mind: you’ve got to start making it the night before, and it’s got to cook in the crock pot for 2 – 4 hours (2 on high, 4 on low) and THEN sit for 15 – 20 minutes before you can eat it. So don’t go rolling out of bed thinking you’re about to be shoving french toast in your face. You’ve got to be PATIENT.

The ingredients for the first part of the recipe:

A loaf of french bread, 6 eggs, milk, cinnamon. Now, the recipe called for “A loaf of bread”, and then next to it was a link to make your own homemade french bread. With my keen mind and cunning detective skills, I decided that I would buy a loaf of french bread (though to be honest, I think most any kind of bread would work) and take the leap of faith that everything would work out.

I mean, come on. Make your own french bread? Making your own bread has its place in the world I SUPPOSE, but really.

So dice up your loaf of bread. I did fairly thick slices and then cut each slice into six pieces, then threw them in a bowl. I don’t truthfully think it matters how you cut it up, just that you do, so that the liquid can sink into all areas of the bread.

Then mix your eggs, milk, and cinnamon.

What’s it called when the cinnamon refuses to mix with the liquid and separates into pods of cinnamony goodness? I mean, other than “annoying” what’s it called? I could have gone through and popped each cinnamon pod to FORCE it to blend with the liquid, but I refer you to the animated gif up there. I figured that once I added it to the bread, it would all work out. I was right. I always am AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT.

I was about to pour the eggs/ milk/ cinnamon over the bread, but then I was all “This bowl does not have a cover and I am not in the mood for messing around with plastic wrap. Howzabout I get out a big bowl that HAS a cover and use that instead, ya think?” Which I did. Then I dumped the eggs/ milk/ cinnamon over the bread and stirred it around until all the bread was moistened.

Then cover your bowl, put it in the fridge, and soak overnight (or at least 4 hours.)

The next morning, it’s time to make the topping.

Cinnamon, chopped pecans, brown sugar, softened butter. Not pictured: nutmeg.

Do you SEE that freakin’ Asian Lady Beetle back there, trundling along like a whore? I love my house, but what I DO NOT LOVE is that from November onward, we are host to 75 million of those FUCKING Asian Lady Beetles, who are of the mistaken impression that we’re a bed and breakfast. They come inside, they trail stinky orange goo around all our windows, they bitch about how the towels aren’t THICK and PLUSH enough, they complain about the Continental Breakfast. Then half of them crawl into the walls and attic, and the other half  die and litter the window sills and floors. I have to go around with the broom (or, in my lazier moments, the handheld vacuum) and sweep them up and toss them in the trash. I hate those fuckers so much.

The BEST part is that if the temperature gets above 50 degrees – I’m in Alabama, remember, and it’s been a particularly mild Winter – all the stupid Beetles stretch and yawn and come out and demand room service. Then about half of THOSE flail around on the window sills and floors while the other half wander aimlessly around the house.

I HATE THOSE THINGS SO FRIGGIN’ MUCH.

ANYway. There are your topping ingredients and one pain in the ass Beetle in the background. (I should totally Photoshop Paul McCartney into the background of that picture.)

In a bowl, mix together your butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg. I used a pastry knife to do mine. If you don’t have a pastry knife, use two knives to do it. Or your hands, or your feet, or fit the Lady Asian Beetles with tiny harnesses and make them do it. Whatever works for you, works for me.

Spray your crock pot lightly with cooking spray, dump your bread/egg/milk/cinnamon mixture in, and then sprinkle the topping across the top. Put on the lid. Cook for four hours on low, two hours on high. I did it on high, because I didn’t want to be eating this stuff at lunch time.

This is what it looked like after two hours.

The butter and sugar melted together to make a tasty, tasty topping. Don’t forget to let it sit for 15 – 20 minutes before you eat!

The verdict? Um… I guess I kinda don’t like French Toast as much as I thought? I mean, I ate a small bowlful of the stuff and it was good, but it was – this totally sounds like something Fred would say – too eggy. I don’t know, there was something about the consistency that I didn’t care for. If I were at someone else’s house, I’d probably eat a small bowl, but if I never have it again, I’m okay with that. Fred also ate a small bowl of it, and we gave the rest to the chickens, who loved the hell out of it.

(One day I’m going to remember to take a picture of the chickens eating our leftovers so you can see how much they enjoy what we give ’em!)

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Nance’s Take:

I was determined to have my part of the damn entry done in time to be published on Monday morning. But more exciting things got in the way (I’m lying) and I never found my way into the kitchen until late Sunday afternoon. I also never found time in my day to get dressed. Pajamas. ALL day. It was wonderful! The picture above shows a few different things. I did not make my own homemade bread and I didn’t buy French bread either. It also shows that I used my iPad to see if the web site had pictures of how they cut their bread (it didn’t) and finally, the tray I bought on clearance for 79¢.

You can guess which one of those I’m bragging on. Hint. 79 MOTHERFUCKING CENTS!  Yes, I’m aware it’s out of season.  But hey, sunflowers are cool any time of the year (in my own head, but whatever).

There was a harsh moment when I thought making this recipe was doomed. Last week we went to New Jersey (Rick/work) and on the way home we stopped at Chocolate World in Hershey, PA. We picked this up as a joke gift for my son because he’s always asking me to buy Hershey syrup. Banana for scale (and if you know where the banana thing is from you can be my new best friend). That’s over 7 pounds of Hershey Syrup.  Trey has lost his mind with making chocolate milk and all I can say is that he’s damn lucky that his father noticed we were out of milk and picked some up from the store earlier in the day. I almost had a stroke when I saw the empty gallon jug in the garbage!  Do you guys remember when this stuff used to come in a can and you had to use the triangle-shaped can opener to open it?  I remember sneaking that can from the refrigerator and pouring it right into my mouth when I was a kid.  I’m so thankful that I never got caught because, OH BOY.

Six eggs. And a new piece of pretty Polish Pottery.

I have to confess (OHMYGAWD, I DO NOT WANT TO) that I am like Robyn’s husband, Fred, when it comes to thinking that eggs can sometimes be too eggy. I deviated from the recipe and threw some vanilla extract in there to try and correct any eggyness problems. I actually thought about blaming my mom for this vanilla bottle being a mess (SLOB!), but I’m not sure it wasn’t me so I’m going to just shut up and save my own ass.

Here’s an appetizing picture for ya!  Full Disclosure:  I obviously did not let this sit for 4 hours or overnight.  I poured it over my bread, mixed it up and dumped it into my crockpot.  Procrastinators Unite!

The topping sans nuts.  That right there is health food in my world.  LOVE butter and brown sugar!

Can you see what I see in this picture?

All ready to go! Since I started so late I went ahead and turned it on high and set the timer for two hours like the recipe said.  Note:  I used walnuts instead of pecans because I’m not like some people who have pecan trees in their backyard.  Ahem.

After two hours it was still too soggy to eat.  I had to endure a speech about the different temperature variants, blahblahs*science*blahblah, of crockpots. Thanks, Rick. I care about that shit and I’m glad you’re here to tell me all about it.

This was after two and a half hours. Looks much better. Unfortunately, nobody in the house liked it because we’re a bunch of picky motherfuckers who like our French toast made the old school way. Or it could have been that they thought it was too bland and they don’t like nuts on their French toast since that’s what they actually told me.

No pictures of animals eating this because I have enough health issues in this house right now and I’m not about to add an animal with a food allergy.  With my luck, I’d have a couple of fools going into anaphylactic shock over the nuts or some shit.  And seriously, I refuse to call an ambulance for Felina.  You think that’s a ridiculous statement?  You have not met Shirley.  I could be laying outside in the driveway with a broken leg and she would not notice for days.  Felina coughs a few times after eating a couple of nuts and Shirley will have her ass air-lifted to Children’s Hospital.  No lie.