Lemon Blueberry French Toast

Spring is trying. The Bradford pears are doing their brief spectacular thing again—third Bradford pear spring since Marcus died, I have counted them, I will count every one going forward because it is a way of keeping the years rather than losing them—and the forsythia is along the fence and the dogwood is budding and the morning air has that particular almost-spring quality that is the most hopeful smell in the world, the smell of something coming even if it isn't here yet. I love almost-spring. I love the almost of things that are on their way.

Destiny and Travis are getting married in October. They have set the date—October twenty-third—and the plans are forming: small ceremony, New Hope AME Church, about seventy-five people because of COVID but also because Destiny has never wanted a large wedding, she wants the people she loves in a room together and a good meal afterward, which is exactly right, which is the right priority. I will cook the reception dinner. This is settled. I told Destiny and she said, "Mama, I was going to ask—" and I said, "I know. I'll do it." The end of that conversation.

I made hot cross buns this week. Palm Sunday is coming and I make hot cross buns every Holy Week—it is one of the cooking class traditions I started in 2015, the Palm Sunday bun-baking, the class gathering to make something that is both old-fashioned and technically interesting, the enriched dough, the currants, the spiced interior, the cross piped in icing on top. This year I made them with Shanice alongside me. She had never made them before. She had never heard of them—they are a tradition I absorbed from an old British cookery book I found at a church sale in 1999 and that became mine the way found things become yours. Shanice's first hot cross buns came out properly risen, properly spiced, properly crossed. She said, "These are good." I said, "Yes. They are yours now too."

After Shanice and I finished the hot cross buns and stood in the kitchen eating them warm while they were still doing what fresh bread does—that particular smell, that particular stillness—I started thinking about what else I wanted to make this week, something that carried the same spirit: bread made something better, fruit, brightness, the particular sweetness of Holy Week mornings when the light is early and the house is quiet before everything begins. This lemon blueberry French toast is what I kept coming back to. It has the same quality the buns have: it is simple enough to share, special enough to remember, and it asks you to slow down for exactly as long as it takes to make it right.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 thick slices brioche or challah bread (about 1 inch thick)
3 large eggs
1/2 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries
2 tablespoons maple syrup, plus more for serving
Powdered sugar for dusting

Instructions

Make the blueberry syrup. In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine blueberries and 2 tablespoons maple syrup. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the berries begin to burst and the syrup thickens slightly, about 5–7 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside.
Whisk the custard. In a wide shallow bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, lemon juice, lemon zest, vanilla extract, cinnamon, and granulated sugar until fully combined and no streaks of egg remain.
Soak the bread. Working in batches, lay the bread slices in the custard mixture and let soak for about 30 seconds per side, pressing gently so the bread absorbs the egg mixture without falling apart.
Cook the French toast. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a large skillet or griddle over medium heat. Add the soaked bread slices in a single layer—do not crowd the pan. Cook until golden brown on the bottom, about 3–4 minutes, then flip and cook the other side until golden, another 2–3 minutes. Add remaining butter for the second batch.
Serve warm. Plate the French toast and spoon the warm blueberry syrup generously over the top. Dust with powdered sugar and serve immediately with additional maple syrup alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemon Blueberry French Toast — The Morning After the Buns, the Spring Still Comes