This morning began with the smell of batter sizzling on the pan, golden circles stacked high and served with a smile. Tonight, the day closed with sugared French toast, crisp at the edges and soft at the centre, made with the same care.
It’s not just about the food — though it’s delicious — it’s about the love woven into each meal. The quiet gift of someone who knows that breakfast and supper can be more than nourishment; they can be gestures of tenderness, of joy, of home.
Grateful tonight for a husband who cooks, who cares, and who makes ordinary days taste extraordinary. 🥞🍞❤️



Leave a comment