Touting toast

Recently we decided at our house that we needed a new toaster to replace the aging device that, long before Paul Prudhomme adapted the technique for seafood, had been reliably blackening our breads, bagels, and frozen waffles. So we set off to the nearest appliance store to make what we thought would be an easy purchase only to discover there an astonishing array of models, especially for what is essentially a single-function contraption.

Some were imposingly hefty and cost well over $100 -- more than I paid for my first food processor many years ago. (They too were Cuisinarts.) Some bore digital displays, others special defrost and reheat features, and still others individual settings for pastries and bagels. At least one model, the one we ended up buying, was a pop-up toaster in reverse. Bread slides down through it and is deposited onto a serving tray as toast.

Clearly the electric toaster has come a long way since its invention in 1893 by Britain's Crompton and Co. and the introduction in this country in 1908 by General Electric of the first commercially-successful electric toaster. Those early models were pretty Spartan compared to today's. A slice of bread was positioned close to bare electric coils and toasted on one side. You turned it by hand halfway through the process to toast the other side and when finished you pulled the plug. Requiring constant vigilance, such appliances were used right at the breakfast table. In 1918, U.S. inventor Charles Strite patented the first automatic pop-up toaster and the first model, the one-slice Toastmaster 1A1, was introduced in 1926. Today nearly 90 percent of American homes have a toaster.

The first electric toasters may have been primitive, but they were still a far cry from their predecessors, the toasting fork and the toasting rack. The former, which can be traced back to ancient Egypt, was used to hold bread over an open fire. The latter, a tin and wire cage enclosing sliced bread, was used over a hot burner. Today's high-tech toasters, then, are merely the latest tools in humankind's age-old quest for perfect toast.

That got me to thinking. Perhaps I haven't appreciated how significant a culinary achievement toast is. Maybe I haven't

considered its Epicurean possibilities. Possibly I've taken it for granted.

Just as I was entertaining those thoughts, I came across something that soundly confirmed them: a new cookbook devoted solely to toast. Written by California food writer and caterer Jesse Ziff Cool, it contains dozens of recipes not just for toast to be served at breakfast, but for toast as an appetizer like nasturtium-goat cheese toast with raspberry-beet salad, a main course such as toasted polenta corn bread with lamb and apricots, or even a dessert for example, toast with figs and stilton cheese, not to mention lots of recipes for sandwiches.

A whole book of toast recipes might seem like overkill, but, on the other hand, maybe it's time toast finally got its due. After all, as Misty Harris, writing in the Edmonton Journal, observes, though it may not be hip and sexy like focaccia and brioche, toast is beautiful and unpretentious. Compared to it, the bagel is a prima donna. Alan Burdick, writing in the New York Times, goes even further. He claims that to toast bread is to re-enact in miniature the American dream itself.

"Just as every American child may grow to be President," he says, "so does every slice of bread, no matter how airy, white and characterless, offer the golden promise of toast."

All of this may seem like so much hyperbole, but the Brits wouldn't think so. Toast is serious business to the English. Thus, "The Oxford Companion to Food" contains about 1,000 words on the subject. The hamburger, an American favorite, by contrast merits only a mere 200 or so.

The Companion notes that toast is a standard component of a "proper" English breakfast and an English specialty with a long history in that country going back at least as far as the Middle Ages when "tost" was made over an open fire and used to sop up liquid mixtures or spread with toppings such as hot spiced honey or a paste of cinnamon and sugar moistened with wine. Indeed, America's penchant for cinnamon toast had its roots in 17th century Britain. Similarly, Welsh rabbit (or rarebit) was an outgrowth of the 16th century British practice of putting all manner of things, in this case melted cheese, on toast. In 18th century Britain burnt toast soaked in water was even used as a coffee substitute.

Why toast should have become such a staple in Britain, the Companion notes, is not clear, but suggests that it could be because typical English wheat bread, which keeps for several days, lends itself so much better to toasting than the close-textured rye breads of Northern Europe. Whatever the reason, toast, Ian Sansom notes in "The Guardian" of London, has become "the Englishman's bagel." I'll bet the British actually appreciate the work of so-called "toast artist" Maurice Bennett who recently constructed a billboard-sized portrait of Dame Edna made entirely from 2,989 slices of toast.

But you don't have to be English to appreciate the fact that toasting bread to caramelize its sugars and starches, what scientists call the Maillard reaction, brings out its best qualities. It can even make Wonder Bread taste good. Surely toast is the greatest thing since, well, sliced bread.

Toasted Bread and Tomato Salad with Chicken

This dish, what Italians call panzanella, is perfect for warm summer evenings. After fresh tomatoes are no longer at their peak, substitute canned ones, preferably the fire-roasted variety. Because you'll need lots of juice to moisten the toasted bread, they'll work nearly as well. The recipe is adapted from Jesse Ziff Cool's new cookbook "Toast: 60 Ways to Butter Your Bread & Then Some."

Ingredients:

1 loaf (1 pound) crusty white bread

3 large very ripe tomatoes or 1 can (24 oz.) canned whole tomatoes

1 red onion

1 medium cucumber

1 and 1/2 cups chopped fresh basil

1/2 cup olive oil

3 tablespoons red wine vinegar

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons sugar

2 cloves garlic

2 tablespoons capers

2 cups shredded skinless chicken

Salt and pepper

Directions:

Chop tomatoes, reserving juices. Thinly slice onion. Peel, halve and seed cucumber and slice thinly. Mince garlic. Combine all ingredients except the bread and refrigerate. Tear bread into bite-sized pieces and toast in oven at 400 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes or until lightly browned. About 15 minutes before serving, add bread to salad mixture and toss thoroughly. Drizzle with tomato juice to moisten bread to desired texture. Serves 4-6.

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