
It's almost midnight and any other Sunday night I'd definitely already be in bed. Factor in the day Dave and I have had and I should have been in bed several hours ago. But no, it's Superbowl Sunday and I definitely won't miss that. Unfortunately our Superbowl doesn't technically begin until Monday -- starting at about 12:30am, I'm trying to kill the last hour until it actually starts.
I've filled the last few hours preparing Superbowl treats that have mostly all been devoured (later post to come on that). Dave is now taking a pre-game nap, but I know that won't revive me if I allow myself to succumb. Dave and I walked in the door from skiing at 9pm -- long after our 4pm departure from a ski resort in France, just over an hour away from our house. We made it about 40 miles before Dave's ultimate nightmare (and while I agree, I hadn't really thought of it before) descended on us... our car broke down. Dave pressed on the gas while pulling away from the last (of many) toll booths and the car sort of sputtered. Thank God there was a little pull-off on the side of the road, but when Dave tried to re-start the car, nothing happened. He said it felt like the car had run out of gas, but we had just refilled when we left the ski resort.
Now obviously this type of thing is a huge pain no matter where you are, but if you're on your home turf, you know to call AAA or other roadside assistance. Not only did we not know who to call, we had no idea how to communicate what the problem was. After dreading it for several minutes, I finished picked up the phone and dialed 17, France's equivalent of 9-11. It was all I knew from a handy card in our user manual that has the emergency number of every European country on it. I would never call 9-11 for such a thing and they'd probably hang up on you for such a minor emergency, but we had no other option. (Ironically enough, I was reviewing some French notes out loud with Dave while we were driving, and one of the words was 'panne' which is basically used to say your car is broken, while this didn't help explain everything, it definitely helped!) Surprisingly, the French police were fine, and after clarifying there was no accident, finally gave us another phone number to call. Struggling through my limited automobile French vocabulary, we miraculously arranged for someone - we weren't sure who - to come to the rescue. They even said (in French of course), 'oh, are you in an Audi, ya we see you in the camera' -- what?! Anyway, beyond that I understood 'trente minutes' and again, shockingly, just after 30-minutes a full-on tow-truck arrived (I was convinced that a little twingo would show up as the only roadside assistance vehicles I've seen in Switzerland are these mini 2-door cars).
Well, I was hoping it would be like AAA, that they wouldn't just load your car up, but try to figure out the problem and fix it if they could. No such luck. So after loading the car and hopping in the truck, we were off. We were hoping to go to a mechanic, but ya right, it's a Sunday night in France; there's no chance. We arrived at a big lot of towed cars and after the guy rambled for several minutes with practically nothing being absorbed on our side, he took off. Dave and I looked at each other, but I swore I caught that he would 'return quickly' and some reference to calling our insurance company. Great, I didn't even know what was wrong. Luckily we were calling Switzerland and immediately were greeted with English after the obligatory 'parlez-vous anglais?' That was easy enough, but after 30-minutes, we had no idea when this guy was coming back and what we were supposed to do from there.
In the end, it all worked out fine. We got an expensive cab ride back to Geneva train station, sharing with another girl who was rushing to catch the last train back to Paris. Then we caught the 15-minute train to Nyon and a short walk further with skis and all, we finally walked in the door.
Things like this, while such a pain, and horrifyingly so in a foreign country, at least remind you that things can always be worse. We could have had this happen on the narrow mountain road we drove on for 20-minutes after getting that now-shady gas. Then we would have had to deal with not only getting all the way back home, but getting back to that place to pick up the car. And obviously, it can always be much worse than that as well. So after the slight detour, which I filled by planning future trips from the Frommer's Switzerland book (mom always said never leave home without a book, you never know how long you'll be stuck somewhere!), I took a hot shower and immediately started on the football food -- we were starving.
I've decided to save those recipes for a post later this week, but this morning's breakfast still fits in with the theme. I don't know if I dreamed it or just woke up hungry, but I literally woke up with this idea for breakfast, using up a leftover thick baguette -- French toast sticks. Now a baguette can be a bit too tough for French toast, so I thought about cooking the bottom as well, so soften it up and then crisp it, but helping to lose the day-old crunch. Such a hit!
French Toast Sticks
2 eggs
2 Tbsp milk
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 a thick baguette
Crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk with a fork. Whisk in the milk, vanilla and cinnamon. Cut the baguette into 3-inch pieces, then slice each piece in half (slicing open the soft middle, like you're making a sandwich). Dip the soft tops in egg, carefully turning to get the soft sides eggy as well (no need to fully immerse as the crispy bottom can stay dry). Melt some butter in a skillet over medium heat and add the egg-dipped bread, dipped-side down. Cook for a minute or 2, then turn all pieces of bread to the same side edge (which should be much smaller so only needs maybe 30 seconds); turn again to the last eggy side and do the same. The only side that should be uncooked is the crust side. Remove all bread to a plate, melt another tbsp of butter and add all the bread back in, crust side down, this only needs about 20 seconds or so. Arrange on a plate with a small bowl of syrup in the middle. Serve hot.
Results: I'm sure these have been done before (in fact, I think even by Burger King), but it really was a great way to use up the leftover baguette. While I'm not necessarily convinced that the baguette is the type of bread for French toast, this totally worked and combined the fluffiness of a thick soft bread with a slightly crispy base. I have to admit, I went through a lot more butter than I normally would when making French toast as I added more when crisping up the bottom, but oh well, it was worth it.



















