FRENCH LECHES

The post title is a play of words/homage to a Cuban bakery in Los Angeles that specializes in a "destination food" called tres leches, a milk-soaked cake. My version is a layered french toast (using walnut bread), and before frying in butter was, of course, dunked in whole milk - with tons of lemon zest - brown sugar and grated nutmeg, then soaked in beaten egg slightly salted - transferring to the pan, heat on medium low, to gently brown the bread, seal in the butter and save the milk in its sponge. When plating, cut at mid-diagonal splitting into eight triangles with an open mouth - then drizzle agave syrup like rain, then pollen your cake with powdered sugar dust. Eat now. Forking will not dislodge the milk but will wait to be savored in your palate - bringing to it an "orchard" taste, borrowing from a poem by Li Young Li titled, Blossom, evoking a summer day that will never end. But luckily, the metaphor is just a poem. It's already fall in the New York - and I love the fall season. My french leches is a "warm pudding" the color of wet autumn leaves on the forest floor. According to another poet, nature doesn't fulfill desire (and goodness) - it creates it.