Dumdad & Co
Dumdad, an Englishman
The Frog Queen, his French wife
Brainbox, 20, his son
Princess Perfect, 16, his daughter
And Scabby, 14, the family cat
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Officially, Spring starts about 21st March, but today in my neck of the woods it is a lovely Spring day with glorious sunshine and vivid blue sky, punctuated with puffs of powdery clouds.
I went out to buy a baguette and have a walk in my eco-park and realised pretty quickly that I was overdressed in my Barbour jacket.
But I’m not counting my poulets before they’re hatched – last year on 12th March there was a heavy snowfall that gridlocked the neighbourhood. Last year we had at least three heavy bouts of snow but this year, so far, not a flake.
Princess Perfect, my 16-year-old daughter, is on half-term hols at the moment.
She tends to sleep in – yesterday she emerged from her bedroom at 2.30pm!
Today, though, I tempted her out of her lair to have lunch with me. I prepared an old childhood favourite comfort food of mine – eggy bread. This simple dish is also known as French toast and gypsy toast.
It’s easy and quick to make and, in this case, quite delicious, even if I say so myself. Actually, my daughter thought it rather good too. The added rashers of bacon also enhanced it.
Here’s how I prepared my eggy bread:
Three medium eggs
Two slices white bread
Two tablespoons milk
Three tablespoons olive oil
Knob of butter
Salt and pepper
LET’S GET COOKING
Put the frying pan on a medium heat, add the olive oil and butter. Leave that to heat up while preparing the eggy bread.
Break the eggs into a bowl, add milk then salt and pepper. Lightly whisk the egg mixture with a fork to mix the egg whites and yolks.
Place the bread in a flat dish and evenly pour over the eggy concoction. Leave the egg mixture to soak into the bread for a few minutes.
Put the soggy bread in the frying pan and pour the remaining egg mixture over the bread. Heat around medium and fry for four minutes. Turn the eggy bread over and cook for a further three minutes.
The eggy bread is cooked when it has a golden brown colour.
I added two rashers of bacon (can’t go wrong with bacon!) and, voilà, bacon and eggy bread luncheon.
. . . that my son Brainbox was born. Although we didn’t name him Sgt. Pepper he was such a lovely baby we loved to take him home with us, we loved taking him home.
(That’s enough trying to be clever with a Beatles song – ed.).
My son, my first born, is 20 years old today. Crikey.
Tonight we shall celebrate his birthday with presents and cards and cake and the meal of his choice: magret de canard and chips.
The day my son came into my life is as fresh today as then.
When he was 17 I reproduced a letter describing his birth. You can read that here.
So, it’s 20 years since that day that changed my life forever and for the better. I sometimes miss the little boy who looked up to me and thought I was the cleverest and funniest dad in the world, but I’m proud of what my little boy has become and has already achieved.
(Proud dad moment: he was top of his university class for the semester. Again).
And now he is about to leave home. He has found a studio apartment and signed the lease etc and hopes to move in this Saturday. I did the same thing at his age and I understand the desire to be independent but I’ll miss him!
Bon anniversaire, my lovely boy.
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