I woke up this morning without an alarm and unusually early for a Sunday. I rolled out of bed and went to find some coffee. Bozeman felt even sleepier than I did at 8am as I rolled through town in search of some coffee beans. I came on back home and put the water on and began mixing eggs, milk and vanilla together for french toast.
It had been decided the previous day that french toast is what would be done with the loaf of bread that we had picked up from Mezzo Matto Italian Bakery. When I was a house guest before I had an apartment of my own, I asked my hosts about places and things that locals know about and that can take new residents months to find out on their own. They told me about a family that had relocated (both their family and business) to Bozeman from New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. We had stopped by last week but the unassuming store front has a sign on it that said ‘Gone Camping, be back Tuesday.’ So we came back the following week and were not disappointed with the atmosphere, the propietiers, the blueberry and cream cheese pastries, or the beignets. We also took home a loaf of bread that Nic said would make great french toast. And so it was.
The breakfast came together beautifully. Fresh baked sicilian bread coated with a custard made from farm-fresh eggs and served with homemade maple syrup from Nic’s sister’s farm in Michigan. This is hands down the best maple syrup I have ever had. I have promised to knit her a hat in exchange for syrup, which is such a deal.