On toast, cupcakes, and our inability to be impressed
When I was a kid, I loved my mom’s toast. She made the best toast in the world, not too dark, not too light, just perfect. I once told her how she made the best toast. She just smiled.
A tradition in our family was that, on your birthday, you could pick whatever you wanted for your dinner and desert. I happened to love these little store bought cupcakes, from one of those big companies. They were a dozen to a box with either white, red, or brown (chocolate) icing. Didn’t like the chocolate. My mom would ask me, “Are you sure you don’t want something else, something fancier?”. Nope, that’s what I liked, a little, cheap, cupcake with a candle.
Funny how, as kids, we could more easily recognize things for what they were. My mom’s toast was the best! Now it has to be a hand made Sacha Torte with imported chocolate from an elite bakery. Our minds are too cluttered with expectations. We’ve been trained to be so discerning (so that nobody rips you off by giving you a substandard X, or because it shows refinement to know why X is better than Y). We’re impossible to shop for. We’ve optimized our lives to the point where there is only one, narrow path forward.
So in the spirit of simpler pleasures, some links, on toast!
- Your name on toast (Get yourself in a jam)
- The Roller Toaster (I love the possibilities, think “toasting a baggette lengthwise”)
- Ceramics for Breakfast (social toasting is under appreciated, but personally I prefer to toast in private)