24-Hour French Gypsy Toast, People

First off, let me say: if you're going to tell someone you are going to his/her party, you should go. It's just common courtesy. If you harbor some grudge against that person and aren't willing to accept a party invitation or other gesture of goodwill as a step toward changing your relationship, don't accept the gesture. Be gracious, but clear in your intention. Otherwise, you look like a rude, lying idiot.

 drawing from Beth's Cafe, found in Redefine Magazine 

     Of much more importance: French Toast

     When I lived in Seattle, I used to frequent a lot of the 24-hour restaurants, of which there seemed a disproportionate number, given the size of the city and general Pacific Northwest culture. In Portland, for instance, there were only two non-chain, non-diner-y 24-hour joints---really only one downtown and worth going to, Blah Blah's.* In Seattle, there were at least four, although only three are really stuck in my memory. 

     Beth's, which was the Blah-Blah's of Seattle: overloads of pancakes, omelets, or burgers in a punky, grungy, ktschy atmosphere. Populated by patrons and servers wearing DIY-altered clothing,  sporting rainbows of DIY haircolor, more than the usual percentage of tattoos and piercings. Fun, but a little noisy, crowded, and scene-y. There was also some pressure to draw, since they have a lot of artistic regulars who create small but impressive drawings that make some cool and studied statement about humanity or the world or pop culture. I can't draw, but I distinctly remember ending up with a pencil in my hand on several occasions, as if I was actually going to produce something. I think a few times I ended up writing a small poem or bit of prose that ended up taped into my journal.

     Then there was the bizarre but awesome 13 Coins. You kind of needed a car or a taxi to get to this one, at least as I recall. It seemed more like a late-'70s NYC restaurant to me, all upholstered booths and bar chairs, with veteran servers and a menu including not only the usual eggs, sandwiches, and burgers, but high-end dinner items as well. Sort of a cross between the average city's 24-hour joint and the (original) Brasserie in New York. This is a quality place that's still around, and probably what I'd recommend for most adults and/or families. Yes, that's right, if you're moving to Seattle and you've spent all day unpacking and you and the kids are still awake at 3 am, head on over to 13 Coins and get French Dip, Eggs Benedict, or Shrimp Scampi. There may be some bleary-eyed 20somethings still wearing off their last call drinks, but you'll feel quite pampered and well-taken care of. As you would if you were the drunky 20somethings, as long as you were drunky within reason.

     I confess that my most common 24-hour spot was probably the IHOP closest to the Ave, where I used to sit in the tiny smoking section with all the Ave Rats, ordering a lot of coffee but also some food, which helped the others not ordering food stretch out their stay. This was not the 24-hour joint I had in mind as my third, because it's IHOP, but now that I'm talking, I find it has to be included. I don't think it's 24 hours anymore, if it's even there. But at the time it was, and was of special significance to me. I guess that was probably where I met most of the Ave Rats, whom I have no problem calling "Ave Rats," since that was how they referred to themselves and preferred to be group-labeled. I guess it does sound better than "homeless teen runaways". I had to have met my usual group (Robert, the Artist (Nate), Pockets, etc.) there at IHOP or while I was sitting and/or loitering in various places around the neighborhood. At that point in time, the UW students and Ave Rats often blended not only in appearance but also on a social level, to a degree. I don't know how it would be now, but the general youth population seems a lot more snooty and materialistic, so I doubt it would be the same. I don't even know if it was the same then, really. Although my UW friends were very kind and accepting people, I do remember most of them saying they felt it was "dangerous" that I hung around with the Ave Rats so often. But they were kids, and vulnerable ones at that. I'd say they held the same amount of danger for me as anyone else, though perhaps differing types. It's odd that people would tell me the Ave kids or hanging at the IHOP were dangerous. When I was walking home alone at night I would often think if anything should happen to me, perhaps the IHOP was the best bet for people to actually be there to help if I need to alert them by screams. You laugh, but hey, Ted Bundy started out in that neighborhood. 

     So when I wanted to socialize and feel surrounded by company, IHOP was my pick. But when I wanted a little open space and some time to think, my 24-hour choice was Stella's Trattoria. It has since closed, but at that time it was a fairly new restaurant, possibly only recently 24-hours as well. It seemed like not too many people were aware of it yet, and it was a 24-hour place in the U District, so it should have had a larger crowd than it often did at that time. I would get a rather large table and sit there eating french toast, drinking coffee, thinking and writing,

     Stella's was a huge place with a balcony-like upper floor and a lot of window at the front. It was very open and airy, and somehow reminded me of the old-fashioned ice cream parlors that we used to have in NYC. Bistro tables, marble, curves. They had a fairly standard italian trattoria-type menu of pastas, meats, soups, etc., but then they also had the breakfast and brunch items on their 24-hour menu. Their french toast, which they called "Gypsy Toast," was carefully described as dipped in vanilla cream. I don't know what else they did to it, and can only guess at what bread they used, but that was the best damned french toast I've ever had anywhere. I'm so glad I had the chance to eat it, and eat it as often as I did. But I'm quite sad I will never eat it again. I've spent all my french-toast-making life after those days trying to recreate Stella's Gypsy Toast, and have never been able to do it. Not even close, really. 

     I think in addition to vanilla and cream in the egg batter, there must have been some kind of flourlike substance that really coated the bread and yielded a surface that browned and crusted better than your usual egg batter. The whole dish was redolent with flavor---not in an off-putting, over-perfumed with vanilla kind of way, and not in a sticky-sweet way, certainly. But with vanilla, cinnamon, hints of nutmeg. . . all those things that are in everyone's french toast. And that's what doesn't make any sense. There were all those ingredients that are in all french toasts, but Stella's had more flavor. The bread had to be a usual bread---I would have guessed a nicely stale Tuscan rather that the eggy challah or brioche-type bread I would normally select as a top french toast bread---nothing terribly exotic. So how did they do it, and what did they do?

     Over the years, I've tried adding everything from fresh vanilla bean to General Foods International Coffee mix to flavor my french toast egg batters; using fresh challah, stale peasant bread, thick-cut French; egg batters mixed with cream, Coffeemate, double cream; dredging the pieces of bread in flour, leaving stale bread to sit in the batter for a half hour. . . .While I've made some delicious french toasts, I've not even had a ghost of similarity to Stella's. I see now that the owners had other restaurants, one of which (Mitchelli's) is still operating and has what they call "Italian Toast" on their brunch menu. They describe it as "dipped in a vanilla-run batter, coated with toasted cereal then baked crispy in the Woodstone oven." It doesn't sound quite the same, but are there similar elements? Should I try baking some of my gypsy toast attempts rather than griddle/pan frying? Should I try coating the egg-battered bread in smashed Rice Krispies? 

I don't know. I wish there was someone who knew the recipe who could tell me. Maybe if I'd thought of asking back then, I wouldn't be in the boat I am now. As it is, I'll have to keep searching, testing, and cooking my own french/gypsy toasts. At least it's a tasty pastime. 

*Blah-Blah's closed soon after my first year in Portland. Its owners soon opened a new 24-hour restaurant that is still there, though closed Monday nights (maybe Blah-Blah's was also, but I don't think so). The Roxy can't compare to the original awesomeness of the Blah-Blah Cafe (which I'm pretty sure we used to call "Cafe Blah-Blah," for some reason), but it's its own fun. It's a small, bright dive with (last I saw) a fairly good jukebox and a  long line after 2:30am. Eggs and burgers are the routinely delicious, coffee is just right, and best of all, they have chocolate milk on tap. :)