Is it culinary poetry week?

Since yesterday we had bread, today of course we have:

(from) “French Toast”

Pain perdu: lost bread. Thick slices sunk in milk,
fringed with crisp lace of browned egg and scattered sugar.
Like spongiest challah, dipped in foaming cream
and frothy egg, richness drenching every yeasted
crevice and bubble, that’s how sodden with luck
I felt when we fell in love.

Anya Krugovoy Silver

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