Rabanadas Portuguese French Toast

First full week of summer and I have already reorganized the pantry, cleaned the oven, and made three batches of rugelach — one for the freezer, one for David's family, and one for the synagogue bake sale this weekend. Summer Ruth operates at a higher domestic frequency than School-Year Ruth, because School-Year Ruth is spending fifty hours a week on teenagers and their relationship with the semicolon, and Summer Ruth has all that energy redirected toward the house and the kitchen and the relentless production of baked goods.

David brought the children on Sunday. Ethan is in that glorious summer-child state of being five years old with no responsibilities and unlimited access to a grandmother who will feed him. Sophie, three, has developed a fascination with mixing bowls and spent an hour transferring dry rice from one bowl to another with a measuring cup, which is not cooking but is the precursor to cooking, and I let her do it because some lessons begin with the sensory pleasure of your hands in a bowl of grain. Noah slept through the visit in his carrier, which is the correct response to being two months old.

I made blintzes — cheese blintzes, which are Shavuot food technically, but I make them all summer because they are one of the few things Sylvia admitted I made better than she did, which happened exactly once, in 1998, when she ate three of my blintzes and said, "The filling is better than mine." She did not say "better." She said "different, and also better." I have been making them the same way ever since, because when Sylvia Rosen tells you your filling is better, you do not alter the recipe. You bronze the recipe. You pass it forward like scripture.

Marvin had a difficult Tuesday — agitated, confused, couldn't settle. These days happen more frequently now, days when the disease is louder than the man, and I have learned that the best response is not to try to fix it but to be present in it, to sit with him and speak calmly and wait for the agitation to pass, which it usually does, like a storm moving through. I made him tea. I put on the classical music station. He calmed. We sat together in the quiet afterward and I held his hand and neither of us said anything, and that was enough.

I did not include the blintz recipe here — some recipes live in the hands, not on the page, and I am not ready to reduce Sylvia’s filling to a tablespoon measurement. But when the summer kitchen is humming and there are grandchildren underfoot and I want something golden and pan-fried and finished with sugar, I also make Rabanadas, the Portuguese French toast my neighbor Dona Clara taught me decades ago. The egg, the milk, the sizzle in the pan — it is the same gesture as the blintz, the same morning logic, the same promise that the people at your table deserve something made with care.

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

Ingredients

8 thick slices day-old brioche or sturdy white bread (about 1-inch thick)
3 large eggs
3/4 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon sugar (for the egg mixture)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (for the egg mixture)
3 tablespoons olive oil or unsalted butter (for frying)
1/4 cup granulated sugar (for dusting)
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon (for dusting)
Powdered sugar, for finishing (optional)

Instructions

Make the soaking mixture. In a wide shallow bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, 1 tablespoon sugar, vanilla extract, and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon until smooth and fully combined.
Prepare the cinnamon sugar. In a small bowl, stir together the 1/4 cup granulated sugar and 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon. Set aside near the stove.
Soak the bread. Working in batches, submerge each bread slice in the egg mixture for about 30 seconds per side, pressing gently so the bread absorbs the custard without falling apart.
Fry until golden. Heat 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil or butter in a large skillet over medium heat. When the oil shimmers, add the soaked bread slices in a single layer. Cook 3 to 4 minutes per side until deeply golden and set through the center. Work in batches, adding more oil or butter as needed between rounds.
Dust and serve. Transfer each finished slice immediately to a plate and dust generously with the cinnamon sugar while still hot. Finish with a light snowfall of powdered sugar if desired. Serve warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Rabanadas Portuguese French Toast — Pan-Fried and Golden, Like the Best Summer Mornings