Perfect breakfast, perfect snack, perfect anytime.
“It’s impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you.”
–Nigel Slater
When Susan and I first met, ten years ago, she made it abundantly clear to me that one of her preferred meals was toast. I learned fairly quickly that where some people crave fettuccine Alfredo, or roast chicken, or pizza, or chocolate, Susan craves toast.
At first, she would only eat toast made from one particular type of bread: Pepperidge Farm Toasting White. On one of our first shopping trips together, I asked innocently why she had to be so specific, and she looked at me like I had three heads: “Because,” she said, “of the nooks and crannies.”
“Don’t nooks and crannies belong to to the English Muffin category of baked goods?” I asked.
“They do,” she said, “but they’re different. They’re more cavernous.”
She was serious, and I could actually see her point, even though I’d never given it much thought. When you want toast, you rarely, if ever, mean that you want an English muffin. You want toast: golden, crisp, warm, spread with sweet butter and maybe a bit of jam. And really, in life, a poor man’s feast doesn’t get much better than that.
Susan’s love affair with toast propelled me back in time, where I considered my own relationship with it, and I was surprised, once I gave it some thought, to discover exactly how important it’s been to me; I just never really noticed it because it was so mundane, like a kind of culinary wallpaper. Growing up, toast was just there.
That said, I did realize at a young age that if my mother toasted the sandwich bread surrounding her pretty wet rendition of my school lunch tuna salad sandwich, that tuna salad might leak out the sides of the sandwich, but not through the bread. And that was a very big difference. Toasting bread forms a barrier against dampness. Also, cheese goes much better on toasted bread than it does untoasted, for obvious reasons. And if you toast the bread upon which you set down a poached egg during your Sunday breakfast, that toast is better at sopping up the gorgeous, unruly yolk than it would be if it was untoasted. Which is why, I suppose, eggs with soldiers always means that the soldiers are toasted; if they weren’t, they’d just be too flaccid to stand up to their mates.
When I lived for a short while in England, one of my rooms had in it a ubiquitous English gas fireplace with a wire grate around it; I moved in on an intensely hot Sunday morning, and my college’s porter, a man of about ninety who insisted on schlepping my bags across the street and up two flights of stairs, dropped them in a heap, pointed to the fireplace and said “you do know how to make toast in this thing, don’t you?” It didn’t matter that the temperature was hovering near eighty seven degrees. Or that there was a perfectly wonderful dining hall right across the street. What was on this man’s mind as he mopped his dripping British brow, was toast.
After ten years, I now take my toast very seriously; I own one of those British Dualit four slice toasters that costs as much as a high-end convection oven, and also, a 1910 Knoblock pyramid toaster that you just set down over an ignited burner. I’ve even toasted on a perforated, French metal flame tamer with a wooden handle, that I got for free at a tag sale, and also a 1920s Griswold griddle that I bought in Vermont for $20. I’ve toasted whole wheat bread, white bread, rye bread, sourdough miche; I’ve made terrific toasted tartines spread with an agrodolce tomato jam made from the dregs of tomato sauce combined with a little sugar, sauteed onions, clove, cinnamon, and a drop of vinegar; I’ve also toasted leftover scallion pancakes, and I’ve even toasted socca. There have been toasted arepas coated in a swipe of Vermont Butter & Cheese‘s excellent fromage blanc; I’ve toasted leftover corn waffles made from a Deborah Madison recipe, which I then used as a base for spicy, cumin-infused black beans. The only thing I’ve never toasted is matzo, for fairly obvious reasons.
Toast is one of those culturally mundane foods that marries form to function and flavor; in terms of comfort available on mere pennies, though, there is nothing better.
Quick Tomato Jam for Toast
You can certainly start this “jam” from 2 pounds of fresh tomatoes that you’ve cooked down, but I prefer using leftover marinara sauce (devoid of meat, of course).
1/2 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1/2 large yellow onion, peeled and rough-chopped
2 tablespoons sugar
2 cups leftover marinara sauce
2 cloves
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
splash of balsamic vinegar
Optional: 1/2 tablespoon chopped raisins
1. In a medium sauce pan set over a medium low flame, heat the olive oil until rippling and add the onion. Sprinkle with sugar, combine well, lower the flame, cover, and continue to cook until the onions have become dark and a bit sticky, about 15 minutes (take a peek and stir ever few minutes to keep them from burning or sticking).
2. Add the marinara sauce to the pan, along with the cloves and cinnamon (and raisins, if you’re including them). Combine well, cover, and cook until the mixture has become dense and jammy, about 30 minutes. Check repeatedly to make sure it’s not too dry, and if it is, add a drop of water. Taste for seasoning and finish with a splash of balsamic vinegar.
Leftovers keep well refrigerated in a tightly sealed jar for up to a week.
Ah toast, so simple, so soul-warming. Thanks for reminding me why I love this simple delight so much.
Best, Mike
Five words: Peter Reinhart's multigrain bread extraordinaire. Best toast ever.
Or a baguette toasted over a fire while camping with you family
PS, my wife's nickname is toastboy. The first breakfast we ever had together she asked what she could do to help get breakfast ready. I said she could make toast. It take time to get used to being around a cook.
Toastboy?
Thank you for this. Toast is my favorite food. For me I think it is all about the texture, I love that crunch. Also important is a ton of sweet butter and a sprinkling of sea salt.
I think I'll have to go make some now.
I will be as brief as I can, my wife is a bit vertically challenged, and wears she hair short. Back when we were both practicing law, she was in a local town court with a judge who should have been retired who said "what can I do for you son." It swarmed through the local legal community.
On that date I described I said she could be "toastboy". A variation is now her e-mail address. ;-)stiaf
Now I see where you were headed with the breakfast question on Facebook, and in fact, I didn't respond with "toast" even though, it is by far my favorite breakfast too. I've been on a roll making my own sourdough (a Moro recipe), and that with a spread of homemade marmalade and a strong cup of coffee in the morning really sets me right for the day. Ditto in the afternoon with a cup of English tea.
When my grandsons were younger, they would sleep over at my house, and I would make them toast. They thought I made the best toast in the world, and they could eat up to 10 pieces each. Their mom, my daughter, said they would tell everyone that their Grandma made the best toast in the whole world. They’re almost 15 now, and taller than me, but when they come to visit, they still like to have toast as a snack. You’re article brought this lovely memory back to me. Thanks!
Thanks for this. I enjoyed reading it.
When I was a child, I used get a slice of toast with a spread of butter as a tea time treat whilst watching cartoons on the telly. I remember sneaking into the kitchen, heading for the sugar jar and giving it a liberal sprinkle of crunchy sugar bits that were the perfect counterfoil to the salty creamy butter.
Where I come from, lots of people have charcoal-grilled toast with a coconut-and-egg based jam called kaya, with triangular pats of butter sandwiched between for breakfast. Glad to know love for toast is universal. 🙂
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaya_toast
I always have my charcoal-grilled toast with butter and sugar. 😛