So today I helped a chef with a couple of weekend workshops (note to self: start teaching weekend workshops, because people pay a lot of money to attend them). One of the perks—aside from building connections and the excitement and burning shame that come from working for free—is that one gets to eat some of the food produced by another chef’s workshop (we in the bakery department send dessert to the students upstairs, and the upstairs people let us come up and eat some of their remaining food). It’s usually a pretty good deal.
Anyway, today the upstairs workshop did Spanish tapas, and one of the dishes was completely new to myself and my tablemates. We couldn’t even figure out what it was—it looked kind of like meat, but the texture was completely different, and one bite made it clear that it wasn’t. Whatever it was, holy hell, was it good.
Turns out it’s torrijas, the Spanish version of French toast. Day old bread, soaked in red wine with sugar and spices, dipped in egg, and fried (the red wine soak made it look like wine-braised beef), and then served with a highly-reduced wine-sugar syrup.
If I knew how to cook, I’d make that stuff regularly. If you know how to cook, you should, too.