A Toast to Us

Toast, at least in the United States, is ubiquitous. As a result, it is the sort of foodstuff that is often taken cruelly for granted. It is the "also ran" on the breakfast plate, the "comes with" on the menu. The thing you don’t pay any attention to.

Unless it is good, which it almost never is.

In this Pantheon Gastronomique, we want to showcase two really exceptional toast experiences we had this summer. But before we do so, we need to tell you what makes toast exceptional.

For many people, the most important question to be asked about toast is "white or wheat?" But for us, that question pales in comparison to a far more important one. "Is the bread homemade (or "housemade" as we say in snobby restaurants these days)? It doesn’t really matter to us all that much if it’s white or wheat; the important thing is, did this bread come out of a factory--or from something at least resembling a kitchen?

Another, related question, is "Can the toast stand up to the task to which it is assigned?" Peg, for one, wants a stand-up kind of toast, a hearty toast that can hold its own under a variety of toppings, including not only jam and marmalade but also poached eggs, baked beans, and, if you’re into that kind of thing, chipped beef. Toast that is too thin can’t withstand this test. (Of course toast that is too thick risks the dangers of the untoasted middle; browned outsides and a still-cool inside disrupt the pleasure of toast.)

Of course most of the time, most of the world’s toast is not topped with eggs or beans or cream sauce and canned peas; it’s topped with what we call butter. Even when we really mean that the toast is slathered with some vegetable oil "spread." And let’s face it; even the best toast in the world can--no, will--be ruined by the use of margarine (or "oleo," in parts of the south). Butter is butter; margarine is, well, it’s imitation butter. (You don’t ever hear anyone saying "pass the margarine" when they mean "pass the butter," do you?) Good toast is buttered toast. Q.E.D.

That, all too briefly, is what we mean by "good toast" (and believe us; there’s a lot more to be said about the matter). Now, it’s on to our Toast Experiences.

The Candlepin Restaurant, Barton, Vermont: We came upon this toast oasis late one morning, when we were trying to stretch our breakfast to last until we met Peg’s parents for a late lunch in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Unable to survive for a moment longer, we saw this unassuming little cafe next to--guess what?--a bowling alley. We split an order of their homemade white toast, which came with its own peanut butter and jelly. Let us just say that it is a testimony to the high quality of this toast that our enjoyment of it was not utterly vitiated by the presence of margarine. This was the kind of bread Lisa’s grandma used to make; a dense, ever-so-slightly sweet white bread that attains ineffability when it is sliced and toasted. Our advice: ask for it dry and bring your own butter. (Go for Cabot’s, a Vermont standby.)

Some other restaurant-and-bakery, on the Trans Canada Highway, near Big Bras d’Or Lake, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia (no, we are not making up the name of that lake): This was a late afternoon toast experience, after a long day’s drive. Perhaps this explains the fact that we failed to write down the name of the restaurant or the name of the town. We remember that it was on the righthand side of the road as you proceeded north; does that help?

Peg ordered wheat toast here; she asked for it dry, having learned her lesson in Barton. However, in a truly fortuitous turn of events, the baked potato that Lisa ordered came with a surfeit of butter, from which supply she was able to pilfer. The butter served as the perfect adornment for this truly splendid whole wheat bread, which had been toasted to golden-brown perfection. Toast was accompanied by a dish of sweet, brown, home- baked beans, into which Peg dipped the crusts. Just the thing for a decidedly cold and rainy August day.

Have you a toast experience? Write us at PonH, Upper Crust Division, Box 354, St. Peter, MN 56082