Good morning, nutbags. My nose is still in recovery mode after some nasty little invisible pathogen at my parents' house prompted an allergic reaction to rival the itchy case of SARS I got last year. There was snot coming out of my toenails. My sneezes were comically blowing off the toupees of midlife crisis-suffering passers-by. It was a mucousy, ugly scene from which I am not quite fully recovered.
With the judicious use of over-the-counter pharmaceuticals and spackling caulk, I did manage to cease the facial leakage for just long enough to have dinner with my lovely girlfriend Arielle last night, leading to the following encounter:
Me: Your pancakes look good. Can I try a bite?
Arielle: Sure.
[I take a forkful of pancake and life it toward my mouth.]
Arielle: Wait!
[I freeze.]
Arielle: They're not pancakes. They're croissant French toast.
Me: Okay.
[I nod and continue the fork's path into my mouth.]
Arielle: Sorry. I guess that wasn't such an emergency.
How was everyone else's weekend? Any French toast-related disasters?
With the judicious use of over-the-counter pharmaceuticals and spackling caulk, I did manage to cease the facial leakage for just long enough to have dinner with my lovely girlfriend Arielle last night, leading to the following encounter:
Me: Your pancakes look good. Can I try a bite?
Arielle: Sure.
[I take a forkful of pancake and life it toward my mouth.]
Arielle: Wait!
[I freeze.]
Arielle: They're not pancakes. They're croissant French toast.
Me: Okay.
[I nod and continue the fork's path into my mouth.]
Arielle: Sorry. I guess that wasn't such an emergency.
How was everyone else's weekend? Any French toast-related disasters?
13 Comments:
I have a fuzzy memory of the South Street Diner at 3am and pouring an entire caraffe of maple syrup on to two pancakes. We then led the place in a Journey/Counting Crows singalong.
I'd call that a French toast-related disaster.
This must have been a pancake weekend. I made 'em for myself yesterday and dropped the syrup bottle, which managed to hit the counter, bounce in and out of my silverware drawer, hit the cabinette on the way down and, of course, the floor. So it was a mini syrup disaster at club Christobal yesterday...
hit the counter, bounce in and out of my silverware drawer, hit the cabinette on the way down and, of course, the floor
That is one... magic... syrup bottle.
That is one... magic... syrup bottle.
I agree. I'm starting suspect there was a second sweetener on the grassy knoll.
Someone bring in Aunt Jemima for questioning.
croissant french toast? where?! that sounds freakin' yummy!
S & S in Inman Square, Cambridge.
And yes, very yummy.
It was the great syrup incident of '06. I remember it like it was yesterday...
I made Cinnamon Egg Nog French Toast on Saturday.
It was beyond delicious.
I have heard wonderful things about S&S. I should look into that. Mmmm.
Dammit y'all are making me hungry!
I made buckwheat pancakes for the wife this weekend. Much better than Brendan's "spanky" pancakes.
In all fairness I was only trying to protect you from being a hypocrite, as I know how much you hate the French and that dish was of double “unshowered, white-flag-waving, homo” origin, as you like to call it. (Sorry is letting your fans know about the hatred inside of you, bad for your bands image?)
-Arielle
On second thought, how do you confused pancakes with french toast?
What kind of medicine were you on?
On second thought, how do you confused pancakes with french toast?
It wasn't regular French toast. It was croissant French toast, which looks like pancakes.
I don't have to defend my pancake-related behavior to you people!
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