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Nutella and Strawberry Stuffed French Toast — When the Jam Is Good Enough to Share

Mid-May and the days are long now and warm and I have started leaving my apartment window open in the evenings to let the night air in. Biscuit sits on the windowsill and monitors the situation outside and occasionally makes a small sound at something I cannot see. We have an agreement where I trust his threat assessments and he tolerates my cooking smells.

I made a strawberry jam this week for the first time. Not a big batch, not properly canned, just a small refrigerator jam with the last of the local strawberries before the season ends. Equal parts strawberries and sugar, a squeeze of lemon, cooked low until the berries break down and the mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon. It took about forty-five minutes and the result was a deep ruby jam that tasted like concentrated late spring. I have been putting it on the biscuits I have been making better lately and the combination is very nearly perfect.

I brought a jar to Gloria. She opened it and smelled it and said you know I have that index card for jam in the box. I said I know. She said it is the same method. I said I know. She said good. I think what she meant is that sometimes you arrive at the right answer without the recipe and that is worth something.

At work, the end-of-year celebrations are coming up in a few weeks and we are planning the party for the families. I have volunteered to make something, as I always do, and this year I am planning on bite-sized versions of the peach hand pies I have been practicing. Small pastry packets of sweetened fresh peaches, brushed with egg wash, baked golden. Enough for forty families, which means I am going to be rolling a lot of dough on a Saturday.

After spending a week with strawberries — cooking them down into jam, spreading them onto biscuits, carrying a jar to Gloria — I started thinking about every other way I wanted to use them before the season ended for good. This stuffed French toast was the answer that kept coming back to me: thick bread, a smear of Nutella, fresh sliced strawberries tucked inside, the whole thing soaked in egg and cooked until golden. It has the same unhurried Saturday energy as making jam, and it gives that deep ruby fruit somewhere even better to go than just a spoon.

Nutella and Strawberry Stuffed French Toast

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

  • 4 thick slices brioche or Texas toast (about 1-inch thick)
  • 3 tablespoons Nutella
  • 1/2 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and thinly sliced
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1/4 cup whole milk
  • 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • Powdered sugar, for serving
  • Extra strawberries and strawberry jam, for serving

Instructions

  1. Fill the bread. Spread Nutella generously on one side of two bread slices. Lay sliced strawberries over the Nutella in a single layer, then press the remaining two bread slices on top to form two sandwiches.
  2. Make the custard. In a shallow bowl wide enough to fit the sandwiches, whisk together the eggs, milk, vanilla, and cinnamon until fully combined.
  3. Soak the sandwiches. Place each sandwich in the custard and let it soak for 30 seconds per side, pressing gently so the bread absorbs the egg mixture without falling apart.
  4. Cook until golden. Melt butter in a large skillet or griddle over medium heat. Add the soaked sandwiches and cook for 3—4 minutes per side, until deep golden brown and the centers are heated through. Reduce heat slightly if the bread is browning too fast before the inside is warm.
  5. Serve. Transfer to plates, dust generously with powdered sugar, and serve with extra fresh strawberries and a spoonful of strawberry jam alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 66g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 380mg

Savannah Clarke
About the cook who shared this
Savannah Clarke
Week 268 of Savannah’s 30-year story · Prattville, Alabama
Savannah is twenty-seven, engaged, and a daycare worker in Prattville, Alabama, who grew up in foster care and never had a kitchen to call her own until she was nineteen. She taught herself to cook from YouTube videos and church cookbooks, and now she makes fried chicken that would make your grandmother jealous. She writes for the girls who grew up like her — without a family recipe box, without a mama in the kitchen, without anyone to show them how. She's showing them now.

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