I had dreams about french toast last night. The kids at the child care I work at ate it for lunch. My friend's son made it for dinner.
Now I am seriously craving it! (heading downstairs to make some)
In my creative writing class we had to write a poem about our favorite food. Well I took a trip to Vegas for my 21 birthday with my big sister, She took me to 'Simon' in the Palms Palace. I was lucky to meet the greatest cook in the world (in my eyes...or i guess stomach). Anywhoo I tried the french toast there and now I dream about it.. this is my poem...
Brioche French toast crusted in frosted flakes
Sticky sweet syrup slides down the sides of the lightly browned bread
Pieces cut into bite-size bits.
Inhale. Steam spins towards your nose, smells of sweet cinnamon creeps to your conscious.
Bite. Melts in your mouth like a tiny piece of heaven
Crunch. The frosted flakes sweet sugary crust tickles your taste buds.
Exhale. Tongue still tingling, mouth still craving
Each bite more sumptuous than the last
A deep desire to indulge in more
But all that is left is a puddle of sticky sweet syrup.
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