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Baked Cinnamon French Toast with Blueberry Sauce

I didn't think I was going to be able to post, our internet has been playing up these past few days! But here I am!

My husband came home on Wednesday evening, on Thursday morning I cooked him this for breakfast and it tasted fantastic!

Posted at Foodie Friday, go take a look at some other great recipes!

Baked Cinnamon French Toast with Blueberry Sauce
Blueberry Sauce recipe modified from joyofbaking.com

For the Sauce:

3/4 - 1 cup brown sugar
1/2 tablespoon cornstarch
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup water
3 cups blueberries
Zest of 1 lemon
1 - 2 tablespoons lemon juice

Place the sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, salt, and water in a medium sized saucepan and stir until smooth.  Stir in the blueberries and place the saucepan over medium heat.  

Cook the sauce until the liquid thickens and becomes clear.  (Some of the blueberries will break down but others will remain whole.)  Taste to see if more sugar is needed and add more water if you want a thinner sauce.
Stir in the lemon zest and juice. Taste and add more lemon juice if needed.
Let cool and then cover and refrigerate.
Makes about 3 cups.

For the French Toast: 

cooking spray (or parchment paper)
6 slices homemade bread 
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3 large eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Beat eggs with milk, butter and vanilla until just blended. Soak the bread slices in the mixture.
Preheat oven to 350. Leave bread slices to soak while the oven preheats.

Spray 13x9" baking pan (or line with parchment paper). Sprinkle bottom of pan with sugar and cinnamon, arrange bread slices to fit in a single layer and sprinkle with more sugar and cinnamon. 
Bake, uncovered for 30 minutes.

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.