Raspberry Coconut French Toast Slow-Cooker Style

Mother's Day. The day that means something different every year. This year: I cooked for Mama (at her apartment, brunch, the reversal that is now tradition) and then I went to the Madison kitchen and cooked for clients. Two kitchens in one day. The home kitchen and the commercial kitchen. The mother kitchen and the business kitchen. The love kitchen and the money kitchen. Both are love, actually. Both kitchens run on the same fuel. The fuel is care. The receipt is just documentation.

Wanda started her first Sunday. She arrived at the Madison kitchen at 5 AM (I was already there at 4:30 — nerves, excitement, the need to have everything perfect before the first employee sees the operation). She tied her apron and said: "Where do you want me?" Where do I want you. The question of a worker. The question I've been ASKED but never asked. I've always been the asker. The one seeking direction. And now someone is seeking direction from ME. The reversal is complete. The manager has been managed into existence.

Wanda can COOK. This is not a surprise — I've eaten at church potlucks with Wanda for years — but seeing her in a commercial kitchen, with the speed and the confidence and the ability to prep thirty servings of coleslaw while I prep the chicken, was revelatory. Two people. Two sets of hands. The output doubled. We cooked for fourteen orders in eight hours. FOURTEEN. The capacity that was maxed at twelve is now fourteen with room to grow. The math of collaboration: 1 + 1 = 3. The third is the synergy. The third is the momentum. The third is the thing that happens when two women who know what they're doing stand side by side in a kitchen and cook.

Mama got flowers from Terrence again — for her and for me. The cards: same sentiment, updated year. For Mama: "Thank you for everything, every year, every day. Happy Mother's Day, Ms. Lorraine." For me: "Happy Mother's Day to the woman who feeds everyone. From the man who's glad she fed him first." Glad she fed him first. Terrence. The man who ate my food and fell in love with the cook. The man who is 250 miles away and sends flowers and remembers and the remembering is the love and the love is the fuel and the fuel is everything.

I made brunch at Mama's (biscuits and gravy, eggs, fruit, the annual) and then drove to Madison and cooked for fourteen people and then came home and Chloe had made dinner for the family (tomato soup and grilled cheese — her comfort combo) because she saw that Mama was tired and I was at work and someone needed to feed the family and the someone was her. She's ten. She fed the family. The line doesn't just continue. The line takes over when the previous generation needs rest. That's how lines work. That's how kitchens work. That's how love works.

The brunch at Mama’s is always the anchor of the day — the part I plan around, the part that makes everything else feel possible. This year, with a full commercial shift waiting for me in Madison and fourteen orders on the board, I needed something I could mostly put together the night before: something warm and a little celebratory, something that said I thought about you even when the calendar was stacked. This raspberry coconut French toast is that dish. It goes into the slow cooker early, it fills the apartment with something that smells like a holiday, and it lets you sit down with your mother before the rest of the world starts asking things of you.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 3 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 3 hours 50 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 loaf brioche or challah bread (about 14 oz), cut into 1-inch cubes
6 large eggs
1 1/2 cups full-fat coconut milk
1/2 cup whole milk
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen raspberries (if frozen, do not thaw)
1/2 cup sweetened shredded coconut
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
Powdered sugar and warm maple syrup, for serving

Instructions

Prepare the slow cooker. Lightly grease the insert of a 6-quart slow cooker with nonstick spray or a thin layer of softened butter.
Mix the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, coconut milk, whole milk, granulated sugar, vanilla extract, cinnamon, and salt until fully combined and smooth.
Layer the bread. Spread half of the bread cubes in an even layer on the bottom of the prepared slow cooker insert.
Add the raspberries and coconut. Scatter 1 cup of the raspberries and 1/4 cup of the shredded coconut evenly over the first layer of bread.
Add the second layer. Top with the remaining bread cubes, then pour the custard mixture evenly over everything, pressing the bread down gently with a spatula so all pieces begin to absorb the liquid.
Finish the top. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup raspberries and 1/4 cup shredded coconut across the surface. Dot with the butter pieces.
Cook low and slow. Place the lid on the slow cooker and cook on LOW for 3 to 3 1/2 hours, until the custard is set in the center and the edges are lightly golden. Do not cook on HIGH or the eggs will become rubbery at the edges.
Rest before serving. Turn off the slow cooker and let the French toast rest uncovered for 10 minutes. This helps it firm up and makes scooping cleaner.
Serve. Spoon into bowls or onto plates. Dust with powdered sugar and drizzle with warm maple syrup. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Raspberry Coconut French Toast Slow-Cooker Style — The Brunch I Made Before the World Woke Up