I’m a bit odd, really. I mean have you ever heard of dessert toast?
a Few years ago now my granddaughter caught me mid-breakfast and asked the question only a child would think to ask:
“Grammy, why do you always have one plain piece of toast and one with jelly?”
Well, let me tell you, kiddo—this isn’t just breakfast. This is strategy.
Toast #1: The Plain Soldier. Its job is not glamour, it’s grit. It dives head-first into the eggs, sopping up every last drop of yolk like a sponge at a county fair pie-eating contest. Respect the yolk—never waste the yolk.
Toast #2: The Diva. The showstopper. She arrives slathered in homemade jelly (raspberry is my first love, strawberry if we’re slumming it). This is my dessert toast. The encore. The sweet mic-drop at the end of the meal.
My granddaughter thought this was genius—until she realized, with great disappointment, that the world at large had been living without the concept of dessert toast. The horror.
So, I’m breaking the silence: breakfast deserves dessert. Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, and for heaven’s sake, get yourself some jelly.
Because life is short, yolk is precious, and toast deserves a standing ovation.
