The Lazy Man’s Brunch

Sunday brunch is perfectly suited to the languorous among us. You can eat it in bed or at the breakfast table--in flannel, either pink polka-dotted or gray--and anytime between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. Even the term “brunch” is quintessential laziness. Instead of racking our brains for a unique name, we simply made an amalgam by scrunching together the words “breakfast” and “lunch” into one poetic term.

There’s a problem, though, with sleeping late Sunday morning: Few of us have the constitution to rouse ourselves to actually cook. The idea of stumbling out of bed clear-headed enough to wield sharp objects and make something that would astound friends is, quite frankly, foreign to us. That’s why there are restaurants.

Still, there are advantages to being able to lazily brunch at home, so I was intrigued when I encountered a particularly appealing deep-dish French toast while loafing on a long autumn weekend at the Black Boar Inn in Ogunquit, Maine. Impressed by its craggy, deeply toasted top, warm chunks of cream cheese and a strata of nuts and raisins, I requested the recipe.

As with most restaurant recipes tried out at home, what emerged bore little resemblance to what we had eaten that crisp morning. Impossible-to-copy chef improvisations, extra steps and tiring techniques undoubtedly went into the dish. What interested me, though, was the instruction to the cook to let the whole thing sit overnight in the refrigerator. Now this was approaching the land of leisure cooking. It meant that if I set the table the night before, I could get up at a decadently late 10 a.m. and have brunch ready for guests by 11:45 a.m. This was almost as luxurious as switching to daylight standard time.

I set about tearing apart the recipe military-style--to build it up lazy-man-style. Instead of plain bread, a brioche loaf would be used for extra egg richness and flavor. Brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves would be added to the beaten eggs to save a step. And when the French toast was baking, a drizzle of melted butter on top would eliminate the desire for guests to slather it on. The table would need only warmed maple syrup--45 seconds in the microwave, max.

The Saturday night assembly took only 20 minutes, including cleanup. I put the dish in the fridge and watched “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” But all through the show I was consumed by one obsessive thought: Should I use paper plates? Once a lounger, I guess, always a lounger.

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Deep-Dish Brioche French Toast

Serves 6 to 8

Butter for greasing pan

1 24-ounce brioche loaf, cut into 1-inch cubes

1 8-ounce package cream cheese, cut into 18 cubes

3/4 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

1/2 cup raisins

8 large eggs

2 cups milk

1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Pinch of nutmeg

Pinch of cloves

4 tablespoons melted butter

Powdered sugar

Pure maple syrup, warmed

Generously butter a 9 x 13-inch baking dish. Place half the bread cubes in a single layer, filling in all the gaps. Evenly scatter the cream cheese cubes, nuts and raisins on top. Cover with the remaining bread cubes and pack down. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, brown sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Pour the egg mixture over the bread cubes. Using your palms, gently press down to allow the top layer of bread to absorb the liquid. Cover the baking dish with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Remove the dish from the refrigerator and let it sit for 20 minutes at room temperature. Bake the French toast, uncovered, for 30 minutes. Remove from the oven, drizzle with melted butter, return to the oven and bake until the cubes are

nicely toasted and all the liquid is absorbed, about 5 to 10 minutes. Remove to a rack and run a knife around the rim of the pan to release the French toast. Cut into squares, arrange on individual plates and sprinkle with powdered sugar. Serve with the maple syrup.

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David Leite last wrote for the magazine about fresh pea soup.