I was dreading the day when we would be heading out to Lady Marmalade in the Beaches for best eggs Benedict. For one thing I hate eggs benedict. Add on to that the fact that we were planning on waking up at 7:30am to get there at open- I was not a happy camper. I love french toast, but not that much. We lucked out this week, Brent’s boss was gone so he could come in late. Given that we were going on a Tuesday morning there was no pressure to get there right when it opened. I still had to wake up way before my usual time at an ungodly hour of 8:30am.
Bonjour Brioche, voted best croissant (booting Clafouti, of which I have fond memories as that was our first “best of” outing) just happened to be a block away. Before brunch we stopped in for croissants and ate them on the way to Lady Marmalade. The guy had asked us if we wanted napkins. As soon as I took it out of the bag I understood why: those were so damn greasy croissants! Yet so light and fluffy! No funny aftertaste either. I may have been eating the wrong croissants before Clafouti and Bonjour Brioche. Clafouti still wins for me, they have a variety of croissants (I still need to try the chocolate one, apparently my memory is flawed and I have yet to try it).
We had been at Lady Marmalade maybe a total of 10 minutes, I had barely started to enjoy my machiato when what horror walked in: hipsters, three of them. “Which vintage table do you want to sit at?” one hipster asked the other two. I shuddered and looked at Brent in horror. I watched silently in terror as they chose, of all the tables… the one right behind Brent. Oh God, I thought, our brunch has been ruined. Then one of them did the unthinkable, most irritating thing on the planet: he started singing along with the music playing in the cafe. My only consolation was that right after I ordered the apple cinnamon french toast (there were two choices, and I hate strawberry rhubarb- I think) it was erased from the board. When one of the hipsters ordered the french toast and was told that they only had the strawberry rhubarb I silently rejoiced.
The french toast was baked in the style of bread pudding- something I did not know you could do with french toast and nor did I know how delicious it could be. The only problem was that it was giant. It was easily the equivalent of 3-4 slices of bread. The apples on top reminded me of homecooking (apple pancakes to be exact). It was almost like eating a really soft, warm piece of cake rather than french toast. Due to the bread pudding style it lacked the crunch you get at the crust.