What is so special about toast you may ask? E. Keogh discusses why it’s her favourite food of all time and why!
There’s never been a time in my life when toast didn’t cheer me up or make me feel so much better whenever I was sick. I’m convinced that a fresh slice of toasted Brennan’s bread and a bit of Kerrygold butter could solve most if not all major world conflicts.
The first time I remember toast being the only remedy was when I was 6 years old. My Mam went to night school once a week, so it was up to my Nana to take care of me. I was always a bit of a fussy eater, so I’d be picking at my nana’s cooking at the best of times. I’d get given out to for not eating my dinner, and it was heart-breaking as a kid to have to miss out on jelly and ice cream. No matter how bold I was around dinner time, my Nana would always make sure I didn’t go to bed hungry. So when I didn’t eat her stew that night and missed out on the dessert of gods, I stomped off to watch cartoons as my stomach growled. I wished I had just eaten the stew.
Stressful exams, bad breakups, working retail or just when my mood is low, the warm feeling of a nice bit of toast always cheers me up.
She called me into the kitchen a few hours later, and I was sure this was the end for me. I was going to be crucified for being bold and not eating my dinner yet again. To my surprise, she handed me a plate with a couple of slices of buttered toast made from fresh white Brennan’s bread and an ice cold glass of milk. It was heavenly. She didn’t need to say anything, it was in that very silent, emotional moment that I realised even if she was annoyed that I didn’t eat her stew, she didn’t want me to go hungry. As an adult I can look back and see that through the simple gesture of giving me a warm slice of toast, she showed how much she loved and cared for me no matter what.
I got my tonsils removed when I was eight under the promise of endless amounts of ice cream, which might I add that I never got. Going under for my first operation as a kid was terrifying, but the thoughts of endless amounts of ice cream was worth me thinking they were going to put me to sleep for ages.
Giving up a slice of toast? That’s a sign of true love in my opinion.
There was no ice cream to be seen, but they had made me some toast. The bread was a little bit too hard and dry, and the butter tasted strange, but as soon as I associated it with that feeling of being cared for, I felt instantly comforted. For the few days after the operation all I could manage to eat was toast, it was the only food that would suffice.
Maybe not the most nutritious food ever, but toast to me is a massive comfort food. Stressful exams, bad breakups, working retail or just when my mood is low, the warm feeling of a nice bit of toast always cheers me up. Just the smell of toast is enough to make me hungry, and it tastes even better when I manage to rob a slice on someone. Giving up a slice of toast? That’s a sign of true love in my opinion.
Everyone has their own preferences for toast, whether it’s batch bread, half and half, or soda bread, and that’s not even mentioning the endless spreads, butters, and jams. We can all agree that the comforting warmth of our choice of bread with whatever choice of spread is all we need sometimes.