Remember French toast? Remember how it was when you were a kid? Mom kept that sack in the fridge where all the bread heels, mangled slices and weird-tasting homemade bread your hippie neighbor kept dropping off would accumulate. Eventually, when the bag was full and hopefully before any hallucinogens in the hippie loaf had fermented, she'd make French toast for breakfast.

The method was pretty simple: Whip together some eggs and milk, dip the bread, pan-fry it until it was golden brown and serve with copious amounts of syrup or preserves.

My first experience with anything beyond that old standby came when I noticed "Texas Toast" on the shelf at my local grocery store back in my Houston days. It was on sale, so I snagged a loaf. The extra-thick slices completely destroyed the delicate bread/jam/peanut butter balance of my PB&J sandwiches, so it became part of the French toast bag.

The thicker slice and heavier crust made the best French toast I'd ever had, and soon I was experimenting with all sorts of breads, from brioche to challah and beyond. We will not discuss the Great Pumpernickel Experiment of 1992.

I discovered overnight French toast a few years ago, and it takes the concept in a new direction, combining the browned exterior with a custardy interior that makes for a simple gourmet breakfast. Just cut a baguette or a loaf of crusty Italian bread in thick slices and soak them overnight in a mixture of half-and-half (or cream, if your arteries can take it), eggs, sugar, vanilla and whatever other flavorings you desire. The proportions are flexible, although you should aim for three eggs per cup of dairy for the best custard.

The next morning, brown the slices in a cast iron or other heavy skillet over medium heat, putting the browned slices on a lightly greased sheet pan. When they're done, pop them in a 350-degree oven for 10 minutes to set the custard inside. Serve with warm maple syrup or (my favorite) an assortment of locally made preserves, jams and jellies.

My vegan pal Maggie even has a French toast recipe that won't trouble PETA in the least. You can find it here.

In essence, just about any bread can become French toast. Use some common sense (no tomato-basil or jalapeno cheddar loaf) and make sure to slice it thickly. The fixings are cheap, so if you come out with something inedible at least you haven't blown a wad of dough like you did that time you tried to make truffle-infused cherry Jello with cilantro cream sauce.

Recently, I was sent some samples of Ozery Morning Rounds to try out. I toasted some and had them with butter, cream cheese or peanut butter. I made a wicked good cheese toast with the apple-cinnamon ones that reminded me of apple pie with sharp cheddar on top.

Then, one morning when my sons were with me for the weekend, I got a French toast craving. The Morning Rounds are dense and hearty, but any bread will soak up egg/milk mixture if you give it time. I discovered that about 90-second soak let them pick up the requisite amount of goodness.

Be prepared: The second the interior of the bread gets hot, it's going to puff up like a balloon. Just mash it gently with your turner and it will behave.

The Morning Rounds French toast is best served with preserves or a dusting of cinnamon sugar. Thank me later.