As I’ve mentioned time and again, I spent most of my free time tooling around on the internet looking for recipes. There was a huge spike in this activity in mid December. The idea of making decadent rich foods seemed appropriate and I was looking for any and all that would add to the holiday season.
While I was unemployed, for a very short two weeks, I developed some ungodly obsession with French Toast. I couldn’t get enough of it, but once I started working again these morning treats vanished. So when I was on the LA Times website, weeding through recipes requested from restaurants who were generous enough to supply them, I practically peed myself when I saw the most glorious French Toast recipe.
I remember talking to my mom on the phone a few days later (let’s be serious here, I told my whole family about this) and telling her I wanted to make this for breakfast one day while I was home. It seemed like the perfect Christmas morning breakfast, except for the fact that my family strictly eats cold Italian antipasto on Christmas morning, so that idea was out. Maybe Christmas Eve. Regardless, I got everyone amped up for this motherload.
The recipe I chose was French Toast with orange compote, from the Arizone Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix. This little number consisted of little marscarpone sandwiches that you dipped in the normal french toast egg batter and fried up, adding a freshly made orange compote. I won’t judge you if you had to take a moment to wipe the drool from your mouth. Because when I read this recipe, I practically jumped out of my chair. Cheese in French Toast?!?! This was the greatest day ever!
So when I returned to Jersey, the ingredients were purchased so I could make this mindblowing breakfast. My parents were really encouraging this flare I’d developed for cooking. Not to mention, this dish sounded incredibly excellent. My downfall was hyping this up too much. I told everyone I’d make it for breakfast on Christmas Eve. What I didn’t take into account was the horrendous jet lag I would be developing for most of my stay. So on the night before Christmas Eve, I fell asleep around 4am, resulting in waking around 2pm– well after everyone had eaten breakfast, and past an appropriate brunch hour. This continued to happen for a few days, until one day I woke up hungover at an ungodly hour. It was 10am, but after falling asleep around 4am again, this was awful. I lounged around for an hour or two and got cookin. This was really going to happen!
STEP 1- THE ORANGE COMPOTE
The end result.
I attached the recipe above, so please refer to that for exact measurements.
The first step was to get the compote going, as it would need to simmer for an extended amount of time to properly reduce. I threw in the mandarine oranges, sugar, and ginger that I chopped up. (I lOVE that this recipe used ginger, as I’m learning it’s my new favorite thing to add for a little extra tanginess.) I reserved the mandarine orange juice, as the recipe so boldly told me to, having just enough that I would need. Booyah. I love it when things work out like that. What I don’t love, is not having any orange juice because my father used it all up for mimosas. Did I mention a blizzard rode through? So there was no way for me to get my much needed 2 and 3/4 cups of OJ. That is a lot! How was I supposed to make an orange compote without any of the orange part?
I roared about how pissed I was that no one left any OJ for me and my dad just shrugged his shoulders. “Just squeeze an orange,” was his response. Cue body shake enraged chef at such a ridiculous concept. When I told him how much I needed, he actually laughed. Clearly he had no faith. Having no other choice, I rolled up my sleeves and squeezed all the oranges we had. Thank God for Christmas, because we had a ton from what we had bought ourselves and what others brought over. I was able to get about 2 cups out of them. It would have to do. I dumped in the OJ, saving 1/2 cup for later use and let that mother simmer for about an hour. The recipe said 40 minutes, but I let her ride.
STEP 2- FRENCH TOAST SANDWICHES
I grabbed my loaves of bread (just standard white bread, Wonder style) and grabbed a pint glass. It was time to get circular on these mofos. I patiently sat at our kitchen table, taking one slice at a time, and throwing down the glass to make the prettiest circle I could manage. My sister sat across from me on her laptop pumping some jams. It was getting serious in there. I reserved the scraps for the birds, at my mother’s request.
I stopped after 24 circles, which would result in 12 sandwiches, and broke out the cheese. I delicately spread a healthy dollop onto each pair, delightedly of course, and made up all the sandwiches.
Frying away. I didn't add any olive to my pan as I didn't really think it was necessary
I whisked together 6 eggs, cinnamon, a touch of sugar, and milk. I lit a large skillet and started frying. Like all french toast, I dipped a sandwich in for a bath and then threw it on the hot skillet. Well I was a little more gentle than that because the marsarpone in the middle would cause the top half to slide around if I wasn’t careful.
Mmm... ready for a dip in the orange compote bath!
I was left with adorable little fried gems. At that point I returned to the compost. I took my remaining OJ and mixed in the cornstarch. I added that mixture to the simmering compost to thicken it up a bit. Then I let her cool down.
I called in the troops and let everyone create their own plates, buffet style. I guided them through the intricate process of taking a fried sandwich and ladling the compost on top.
Gloriousness!
Of course by this point, I was barely hungry because so much of my energy had been used to create the dish, but I sat down with a little sandwich and savored it. It was the kind of thing I imagined royalty would eat in the days of Barry Lyndon. (Leave it to me to reference a movie to describe a period of time. What a dork!) So I felt even better about it as I drank my Dunkin Donuts coffee and ate in some sweatpants and my worn out Giants sweatshirt. But this was exactly what I had hoped it would taste like. You get a touch of richness from the cheese, but it’s not overwhelming. The orange compote is a fresh, sweet contrast. The flavors really blended together quite nicely, creating a filling and tasty breakfast. It was a warming treat for such a cold day and really did taste like heaven. I can’t even imagine going back to regular old French Toast.
Roaring Tiger 