My mother just happens to make the best French toast in the world.

Just because she is my mother, and the fact that I was raised on this fine cuisine, has nothing to do with my judgment on this matter (now does it).

Maybe the fact that she comes from France is a good reason for this, although after having spent most of her life here, she has developed a slightly Americanized, tempered and variegated version of this fine delicatessen.

Whatever, my breakfast this early Californian morning began with this nice treat.

Hopefully I will not get too fat these two weeks (don't want to be a part of more than half of those fellow Americans waddling and jiggling around me).