toast

FullSizeRenderUsually when traveling, I head out of the hotel to sample the fare at unique local restaurants. Yesterday, I took the easy way out by opting for breakfast in the lobby restaurant at the historic InterContinental Hotel Stephen F. Austin (learn more). Their standard American breakfast offered a choice of toast. My selection of sourdough arrived on a separate plate with two little butter globes and individually potted jelly. As I enjoyed my meal, it occurred to me that toast is one of those simple pleasures in life that doesn’t get enough recognition. This toast was perfectly golden brown. The temperature was just right for appropriate butter melting. The little jelly jar was so cute and the fruit added the right amount of sweetness. All in all, this humble toast was the highlight of the meal and I enjoyed every bite.

By the time I realized how great this toast was, I couldn’t take a picture because it was all gone! Instead, here’s a picture of the breakfast I had on Monday at the equally-if-not-more historic Driskill Hotel (learn more). Yes, the waffle is shaped like Texas.

Naturally, my mind wandered to other thoughts of toast:

  • One of my mom’s comfort food favorites is milk toast. Milk toast is made by putting toast in a bowl and pouring warm milk over it. I think my mom adds salt and pepper, and there may be butter involved. Just thinking about it makes me shudder.
  • Toast has long been part of the bland diet prescription when someone in our household has a stomach ailment. Implementing a BRAT diet (bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast) is usually the first step on the road to recovery.. We expand the list to include Gatorade and saltines.
  • Another simple treat is cinnamon toast. When our kids were little, we mixed up a jar of cinnamon and sugar so it would be handy at all times. The typical ratio is 1/4 cup sugar to 1 tablespoon cinnamon. With fall and winter around the corner, maybe it’s time to put cinnamon toast back in my breakfast rotation.

All of this thinking about toast makes me wonder: what in the heck does the act of raising a glass and saluting someone have to do with lightly browned bread? I’ll table that topic for another day.

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