This morning, a Sunday, I was up at 6am. I wake up at 4:30am every weekday, so you can imagine how I felt at having to wake up this early on a Sunday. A RAINY Sunday. Ugggggggh. But my father wanted to try out Breakfast at Antonio’s in Tagaytay and to avoid the Father’s Day crowd we assumed would be there, so we had an early call time. I had no right to protest, it was Father’s Day, after all, so I was up at 6am. On a Sunday. A RAINY Sunday.
But I probably would’ve woken up
with a smile on my face (let’s face it, that’s never gonna happen) in less of a foul mood, if I knew that this was what awaited me at Breakfast at Antonio’s:
First of all, I love breakfast fare. I could eat it even for dinner (Ina Garten did an episode of of Barefoot Contessa with a breakfast-for-dinner theme once, it made me want to offer myself up for adoption to her and Jeffrey). And one of my favorites of all breakfast food is French Toast. I will almost always order it, even if a restaurant is more knows for its pancakes or its waffles. And Breakfast at Antonio’s is the best version of it that I’ve had by a mile.
Where to begin? The use of rye bread, which is usually denser than a wheat-based bread, is quite ingenious, as it predictably holds up better than its wheatier cousins. Biting into the bread, you know that it’s soaked through with the custard, but is not soggy or mushy at all, a difficult balance to find with regular white bread.
The custard is definitely not your regular egg-milk-cinnamon mix as well. There’s definitely less egg and more dairy, the creamier taste suggests that they used cream (duh), not milk, or a mixture of both. Another thing there’s a lot more of is cinnamon. In most French toasts, there’s usually just the tiniest hint of the spice. In this version, they’re not bothering with subtle hints, the cinnamon makes itself known. That’s not to say that it was the dominant flavor in the mix, of course not. Think more apple pie level of cinnamon-ness than Cinnabon bun.
And speaking of apples, the apple compote is a delightful counterpoint against the creamy velvet of the custard and bread. While the syrup is sweet, the apple chunks themselves are tart and they do a wonderful job of balancing out the richness of the bread and the whipped cream.
Which brings me to my complaint about this dish. There wasn’t enough whipped cream. I had to ask for extra.
Other than that minor complaint (which probably shouldn’t count, as I would’ve asked for extra whipped cream anyway), I would say that Breakast at Antonio’s French Toast made the 6am wake-up call well worth it. I would very willingly wake up at 6am for it again. OK, maybe not, it’s not Father’s Day every day. So 7am… Ummm. 8am. But 9am if it’s raining.