A Thursday morning that acted like a weekend. I’d gone to bed telling myself I’d make something simple for breakfast and then woke up wanting custardy bread and bananas and too much syrup. The bananas were almost gone - flecked, sweet, at the tipping point. I sliced them thick on top, hit the plate with powdered sugar, and poured the syrup from a distance so it made a little sound when it landed. My husband asked what the occasion was. No occasion. That was the occasion.
French toast and bananas
