On preparing this post I have a revelation or two. First, I like things a little rough. Not too rough, mind you, just a few nibbles and nicks to fill the corners of my senses. I like the crust, obviously. Followed by a soft, chewy centre. But not so soft it falls apart in my hands.
There’s the hint of salt of course, and the buttery cream (fully melted, please) that promises satiation.
Even now, in post-coital bliss, there is a hint of salt on my lips. It’s enough to transport me to my countless toast memories.
This bread is my own creation; slow fermented overnight, brushed with egg for a wonderfully crisp, golden crust in a hot oven.
That is a heritage butter knife, an Art Nouveau pattern, “Silhouette”.
Silver patterns. Why pick that rabbit hole now? I must be distracting myself from toast.
If anything, this sensory experience demonstrates the power of mindfulness, in discreet doses.
Have a gloriously sensory day, friends.
