As far as I’m concerned just about everything tastes great on toast. Toast is both ubiquitous and exotic. It can be a simple, pedestrian affair, quickly smeared with salted butter and eaten, rushed, over a sink. Or it can be, slow and relaxed, taking the form of a crostino, slightly charred and toasted on one side and soft and tender on the other with a decadent topping like ricotta and fava beans, or a hard-cooked egg and a really good anchovy. I could go on and on about toast, but I believe Tamar Adler already beat me to it in The Everlasting Meal.
I suppose toast is on my mind a lot because I seem to be able to subsist on it and little else in periods of deep, intense, all-consuming work. Most often these periods are agonizing but mercifully quick, so toast consumption, and things like 1pm showering and 16 hour work days, come and go. This time, however, I expect such period to last until February 1st, 2014 when I’ll be handing in a manuscript to my editor. I’m collaborating on another cookbook, friends, and I’ll talk about it very soon, but for now I’ll just say I’ve been given six months to write a book, fa la la, and if you think that’s ambitious, then maybe I should add that I’m also working a thirty-hour-a-week (at least!) PR job and (gulp) have signed up to do another book but that one won’t be due til May 1, which is my birthday, which means, that I’ll be, hopefully handing that book in April 30, and calling it a day.