Toast!

I made French toast tonight!

In part because there was a ton of bread leftover from the Thanksgiving feast, and in part because French toast just sounded good. Unfortunately, Host Mom gave me the green light to begin cooking before checking with Host Dad to see if he was hungry. He wasn't.

Carrying an egg in one hand and mixing bowl in the other, I stuck my head in his office door. "Pisiriyorum," I said. "I'm cooking. You better be hungry."

A little while later, Host Mom peered over my shoulder to get a look at the skillet. "Oh, I know what that is," she said. "But it is a breakfast food."

"Well, yeah," I said. "Except when it's for dinner."

(This sort of exchange happens frequently enough that it doesn't really perturb her too much anymore.)

And true, you can't get maple syrup in this country without paying an arm and a leg for it, so we had it with strawberry jam, and we had it in between the soup and the salad, which was kind of strange. And egg yolks are startlingly orange in this country (I shrieked the first time I cracked one), so it was hard to tell when the toast was finished cooking.

But my Host Dad, whose appetite had been lacking only twenty minutes before, mysteriously recovered enough of one to have seconds, so all in all I'd pronounce it a success.