What’s Cooking in Kelli’s Kitchen

Neil has been giving me a hard time lately because, if we’re being honest, I’ve developed a bit of a weekend pattern.

It starts out at the golf course. Late morning, the kind of sunlight that only shows up in spring, where the air is just warm enough to sit outside but not so hot that you’re rushing for shade. The patio is already half full, people lingering over their tables, no one in a hurry to leave.  Folks are shaking off winter chills, relishing the feel of sunlight on their skin, dazzled by the bright green of the fairways.  Spring really does feel like it was built for brunch. Everything about it invites you to slow down a little. The light stretches the morning, the air feels like a reset, and suddenly it makes sense to sit a little longer, order something a little more indulgent, and let the day unfold instead of pushing it along.

Then it escalates. Not a light brunch. Never a light brunch. A chicken-fried steak as big as my face, topped with country gravy or a stack of pancakes served alongside eggs and bacon; brunch is a meal that demands commitment. And drinks that set the tone for the whole thing (and the lazy afternoon to follow). Either mimosas, bright and easy, or Bloody Marys, savory and a little excessive. 

By the time we get home, the split happens almost immediately. Neil settles into the living room, the TV already tuned to Cubs baseball, stretching out like he has nowhere else to be. The low, steady cadence of the announcers fills the space, the rhythm of the game carrying on inning by inning.

I make it to the bedroom. It’s not a dramatic exit. Just a quiet one. Shoes off, curtains pulled just enough to soften the light, and then the immediate, familiar weight of a Rottweiler deciding that wherever I am is exactly where they should be, too. Warm, heavy, completely unbothered by anything resembling a schedule.  The game keeps playing in the other room. You can hear it, just faint enough. A rise in the crowd, the crack of the bat, the announcer’s voice drifting down the hallway and fading again. It turns into background texture more than anything else.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, sleep just happens; a slow drift where you’re still aware of the sounds around you, the weight of a dog sprawled across your legs, the leftover warmth from the afternoon. Then it deepens. Time slips a little. The game moves on without you.  He’s not wrong to notice the pattern–Sunday brunch followed by a lengthy nap is just about my favorite spring activity!

Here’s a great Springtime Brunch recipe to jumpstart your afternoon nap:

Baked Croissant French Toast

INGREDIENTS:

3 T salted butter, melted

7 large eggs

1 ½ c whole milk

¾ c maple syrup (plus more for serving)

1 ½ t vanilla extract

1 t ground cinnamon

½ t ground cardamom

⅛ t ground nutmeg

5 large croissants, torn or cut into bite-sized pieces

1 ½ c frozen blueberries

DIRECTIONS:

1. Grease the inside of a 9x13 baking dish with the melted butter.
2. IN a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, maple syrup, vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg.  Add the croissant pieces and mix together until coated.  Fold in the blueberries.
3. Heat the oven to 350 degrees.  Meanwhile, allow the croissants to soak for about 20 minutes.  Transfer the mixture to the baking dish.
4. Bake for 30 minutes, until the casserole is golden brown and puffy and the custard is no longer runny.
5. Serve straight from the dish, drizzled with more maple syrup!