Morning toast
In terms of sentiment, is there anything more nostalgically comforting than a piece of toast and a cup of tea? Down through the centuries, in a myriad of cultures pieces of toasted bread have been a staple and comfort food if not a lifeline, a completely singular go-to as a precursor to the day by virtue of choice or scarcity. Step into any 5 star venue in Paris and the first thing placed upon your table is a basket of memorable breads. (thank you to Le Bristol.) I thought today might be an apropos day to air my views on such.
Now in my supposed lulling years, I confess to be but astounded by the overwhelming plethora of issues that come to bear in the stratosphere and despite the proclivity and wisdom of ignoring many remain perplexing and therefore itching to me. While I won’t go into the most egregious of them here, as this is written under supposedly a food and garden moniker, I will take the plunge into one that has perhaps bothered me subconsciously for a very long time but recently has reared its head in earnest as the twilight years do well to coalesce the most favored status of priorities in one’s too short and unquenchable lifespans. (possible run on sentence)
I’m going to make a statement that some may take exception to. That is, America has ruined the culture of bread. Honestly, if I eat one more piece of textureless, absence of chew, flavorless and completely uninspiring or suspiciously conceived and offered bread often at an obnoxious price point, or toast of any kind, I think I might scream. I would like to reveal that I am genetically, culturally and sensorially predisposed to loving bread. I could easily forego an entire meal for the love of a simple baguette and a small bowl of supreme butter. These days though, not so much.
As time has gone on the natural processes that be have dissuaded me from eating bread except on an infrequent or experimental basis as in the quest for gluten-free options. Mostly, that pertains to the propensity for it all to deposit itself in what was once formally referred to as my waist and hips. That however, has not dissuaded me from my constant yearning for it. What has dissuaded me however is the constant disappointment I feel when I do indulge in the pursuit of that perfect moment of heavenly sense that I have stored away in my old brain like a squirrel. Ugh. I say, that wasn’t worth the indulgence.
I am not here to posit that bread should be an indulgence rather than a staple on any level. I am here to say that if ever there were an example of the American food business, such as it is, ruining an entire industry and commune of artisans, and stacking it shamelessly upon row after row of American grocery shelves, it is the bread world. What once was the most basic of staples and fed cultures, often exclusively has been turned on its head. Yes indeed, the list of ruined foodstuffs at the hands of the mechanics and muted-to -dead taste buds of the food industry in pursuit of profits is long and arduous. I am just here to say that as a staple of culture, as the basis for so many meals, recipes, iconic food creations and staples such as the old sandwich, we have indeed made a mess.
Undoubtedly, I will hear from a number of artisan bakers who protest my blanket indictment of the genre. However, I will back up my supposition with the depth of my scrutiny of the offerings.
I have lived in metropolitan NYC for most of my life and am now a resident of California. I have done a fair share of foreign travel and sampled breads inside some of the most iconic bakeries of France and Italy. I know this is not an exhaustive sample. Over the past 8 years I have scoured the central coast of California and environs for the best offerings. I would have to suppose that if you can’t find good, if not superlative bread amongst New Yorkers or Californians, you’re in a bad way. I say all this today in that yesterday I purchased a sourdough loaf from an artisan baker and avail myself of what ostensibly should have been a simple desire. I hoped to be a satisfying piece of toast for breakfast this morning as it is feeling quite fallish today and the environment is ripe for a cozy breakfast. Wrong………
Let’s suppose we can list the possible reasons for the decline. Number one is the near conscienceless industrialization of bread making. Let’s just say I grew up in the heyday of Wonder Bread. Thank goodness my mom and grandmother were bakers. We also had an Italian bakery in town that delivered bread (and pizza shells) to our door. I can’t say when bread actually became a thing for me but suffice it to say, I have always had a pull towards (pun).
Number two is the ruination of wheat and other grain farming, processing and storage. Three is toxic substances in water, soil and applied by producers in pursuit of volume. Number four is volume baking. Number five is the societal dumbing down of taste buds and acceptance in general. Number six is cost factors. Number seven is marketing, aging of product, poor starters, proofing and prep. Number eight is not enough salt. I could go on but I think I have captured the essence.
Best options? Source your own grains. Bake your own bread. Control conditions. Calibrate your oven. Get a great bread tutor. Mine was Chef Sim Cass at ICE Culinary when I attended in 2011. Read all about Chef Sim, founding baker at Balthalzar online. There is a lot of great info out there, get into the kitchen and experiment. Baking your own bread is one of the most rewarding of all home endeavors.
For all the artisans out there who have addressed all the ingredient and process concerns and perfected their recipes and executions, I heartily thank you. Now, to toast.
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