The Beach-Riverdale Mirror

Plus, it only cost 10 cents even in those fancy places where the wait staff all wore spiffy uniforms and called you sir.

The episode that triggered this wave of nostalgia befell me recently when I and The Wife stopped to rest after a hard morning spent shopping at the St. Lawrence Market.

By the way, we were shopping for a few items not available at any of the fine Queen Street stores in our neighbourhood so don't try to start something.

In any event, when the toast I had asked for arrived, it came floating up to the table looking like an iceberg with a crust and I walked around it warily for several minutes just in case there was a seal hiding behind its towering flanks. The bread itself was called challah and while it seems to be quite popular, it is not for me.

Unfortunately, that is about as good as it gets today in the toast department and I believe the world is poorer for it.

The toast I ate as a youth was warm and comforting and I am not surprised that the English language uses it to mark occasions that are warm and comforting. We propose a toast to loved ones. We do not stand up and say 'Here's a bagel to Billy' and neither do we conclude an evening of camaraderie by leaping to our feet and urging all present to raise their glasses and join in an English Muffin for good old Cedric.

We are talking toast here and while those slab-sided newcomers that restaurants serve nowadays may be found on their menus, they are certainly not to my liking. And here's another thing.

On those occasions when friends gather to honour someone, the person who stands up and expresses those good wishes is not called the bagel boss or the muffin maestro, he or she is called the toastmaster.

I rest my case. Incidentally, while dining recently on Queen Street East, I asked for and received a plate of old-fashioned toast and it was delicious.