Red Velvet French Toast with Vanilla Bean Cheesecake Filling

Late February. The divorce is proceeding through the courts with the unhurried efficiency of Oregon's pandemic-slowed legal system. The paperwork moves at the speed of bureaucracy, which is slower than grief and faster than healing and exactly the wrong pace for everything. I check the status online and find nothing and close the laptop and make miso soup and the soup is faster than the court and more reliable and the reliability is the point.

I made Fumiko's dorayaki — the red bean pancake sandwiches, the Japanese treat that is two small honey-flavored pancakes with sweet azuki bean paste between them. The pancakes must be perfectly round, perfectly golden, perfectly matched — two circles of identical size, sandwiching the filling. Fumiko's dorayaki were perfect. Mine are almost perfect. The "almost" is shrinking. Last year the "almost" was a gap. This year the "almost" is a sliver. The dorayaki are evidence of improvement, and improvement is the only metric I trust, because improvement is the one direction that always leads forward.

Miya drew a picture of "my family" at school. The picture shows two houses — one with "MAMA" written above it (she can write now, roughly, the letters leaning like they're running) and one with "DADY" (the spelling is approximate, the sentiment is not). Between the two houses is a figure with brown hair and a smile and the word "ME." The teacher sent the picture home. I looked at it for a long time. Miya sees herself between two houses. Not in one house or the other. Between. The between is where she lives. The between is where I lived for thirty years — between Japanese and American, between Ken's silence and Barbara's noise, between the daughter I was and the woman I was becoming. The between is not a deficit. The between is a country. Miya has her own country now. Population: Miya.

The yoga studio offered me more classes — the demand is returning as vaccines become available. I will teach four classes a week starting in March. The income will not replace what the marriage provided, but the income combined with the blog and the occasional essay is enough. Enough is the word I am learning to live with. Enough is not abundance. Enough is not scarcity. Enough is the middle place where most people live, and the middle place is fine, and fine is not a failure, and the woman who makes miso soup every morning in a one-bedroom apartment and writes about it for eleven thousand readers and teaches yoga four days a week and raises a daughter who draws pictures of two houses — that woman is fine. That woman is enough. That woman is me.

The dorayaki taught me something I keep relearning: the best things — the ones worth practicing until the “almost” becomes a sliver — are often the ones built around a filling, two equal halves holding something precious between them. When I wanted to bring that same spirit to a morning that felt like it deserved more than miso soup, I turned to this red velvet French toast: two crimson slices, pan-golden and warm, with a vanilla bean cheesecake filling pressed gently in the middle. It is the kind of breakfast that says enough and means it as a compliment. I made it for Miya on a Sunday, and she ate every bite.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

Cheesecake Filling
6 oz cream cheese, softened
1/3 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste (or seeds scraped from 1 vanilla bean)
2 tablespoons heavy cream
French Toast
8 thick slices brioche or Texas toast (about 3/4-inch thick)
3 large eggs
1/2 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tablespoon red food coloring
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
Powdered sugar, fresh berries, and maple syrup, for serving

Instructions

Make the filling. Beat softened cream cheese with powdered sugar and vanilla bean paste until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add heavy cream and beat until spreadable. Refrigerate while you prepare the French toast.
Assemble the sandwiches. Spread a generous layer of cheesecake filling onto 4 slices of bread, spreading nearly to the edges. Top each with a second slice of bread, pressing gently to seal.
Make the batter. In a wide, shallow bowl whisk together eggs, milk, cocoa powder, red food coloring, sugar, vanilla extract, and salt until fully combined and uniformly red.
Soak. Dip each sandwich into the red velvet batter, letting each side soak for about 20–30 seconds so the batter penetrates the bread without making it soggy.
Cook. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a large nonstick skillet or griddle over medium heat. Cook 2 sandwiches at a time for 3–4 minutes per side, until the surface is deep golden-red and cooked through. Repeat with remaining butter and sandwiches, adjusting heat as needed.
Serve. Dust with powdered sugar and serve immediately with fresh berries and maple syrup alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Red Velvet French Toast with Vanilla Bean Cheesecake Filling — Two Halves, Something Whole