Bread Pudding French Toast

Two of New Orleans' finest desserts walked into my kitchen one morning and decided to become breakfast. That's how this dish was born. You take a proper bread pudding, dense with custard and perfumed with vanilla and warm spices, then you chill it firm. Slice it thick. Griddle those slices in butter until the edges go crispy and golden while the centers stay soft as a cloud. Then you drown the whole thing in bourbon whiskey sauce.

At Lagniappe, we serve this on Sunday mornings to folks who've been out too late on Bourbon Street. It's restorative in ways that defy explanation. The bread pudding base can be made the day before, so all you're doing in the morning is slicing and griddling. That's the kind of cooking I believe in: do your work ahead, then enjoy the company of the people you're feeding.

My grandmother Evangeline made bread pudding from stale French bread because wasting food was unthinkable. She'd have loved this version. The griddling creates a crust she never imagined, but the soul of her recipe lives in that custardy center. The bourbon sauce is my addition. She was Baptist and would've raised an eyebrow. But I think she'd have tasted it anyway.