This was a good week. My mom sent us a loaf of her amazing homemade sweet bread, it arrived on Monday. That meant almost a week of great breakfasts. Not a slice was eaten unless it was toasted. This morning I snuck down to the kitchen to make the last two small slices and have with my cup of coffee. Toast smells wonderful too, it waifs through the house, unfortunately, because then I heard my husbands footsteps making his way to the kitchen. No hiding the evidence, sesame seeds on the counter and in the corner of my mouth. Good morning I said with the last bit of mom's toast in my mouth.
Which got me thinking that there's not a lot of things better than a good slice of toast. One of life's simplest pleasures. I come from a toast family, we try and toast just about anything. When we look at a loaf of bread in the grocery store, we tend to make the comment "that would be great toasted". If we're in a restaurant and the bread basket arrives, we'll peel back the napkin covering the bread and say "I bet that would be good toasted". We once brought a homemade German stollen home to my folks, and my dad asked "can we toast that?", it was heartbreaking but we had to tell him "no".
In hindsight we always had great bread in the house, and great bread makes great toast. Even at the heyday of Wonder Bread in the 60's, you wouldn't find a loaf of that in our house. Much to my dismay at the time of course! I remember sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table with my brother and she would make us toast. Slice after slice after slice. At that time, it was the BEST toast we ever had. We wondered what it was about her toast, maybe it was her toaster? We never knew.
So today I wanted to toast TOAST. Still one of my favorite indulgences. I'll take mine nice and warm, a little on the dark side with butter please.