Two kinds of Torrijas

Every Easter every good Spanish housewife makes enough torrijas to feed an army. And they disappear in minutes, seconds, moments. And as beloved as they are, as much as each Spaniard thinks of them over the year... it seems my generation and the ones that have followed have no clue or desire to learn to make them for themselves. Mother's torrijas are the holiest thing about this week.

The closest thing to a torrija is French toast. Except it's sometimes soaked in brandy and it's always fried in oil and bathed in sugar. The unhealthiest thing in the world.

So in efforts to wing my boyfriend from his mommy dependency, we ventured to make our own.

Two kinds. One soaked in hot milk, cinnamon and lemon peel. The other soaked in melted sugar and brandy.

Both were bathed in eggs, fried in oil.

And then bathed in a sugar/cinnamon mix.