There was a show on PBS many moons ago entitled “connections.”  I liked the show.  The one thing I remember from it was the path from Napoleon’s army to German beer, to Florida malaria, to modern refrigeration.

Last night I was informed that we were out of bread.  That is a minor inconvenience as we have a bread machine which provides for the need and allows many flavors with just the choice of recipe and addition of ingredients.  That chore was accomplished last night and timer set for the morning.


This morning during sit-ups, my nose was happily awakened to the fact that the bread had indeed worked as promised.

This is the appearance of the item providing the aroma to my olfactory sense.  I took a knife to the finished product and sliced a piece to show off to spouseinbox who suggested french toast.  Cool idea.  I haven’t had that in quite a while.  I went back to the kitchen, mixed egg, milk, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and butter in the pan to get the following:

This received a coating of Vermont Maple Syrup – the real stuff – and awaited my palate.  Yum.  That’s how being out of bread ended up becoming french toast.


(You will notice I didn’t capitalize french.  I still haven’t forgiven them for wanting to dig up our soldiers who fought for their freedom in WWII.)