Toast

Nothing says good morning like a stout cup of coffee and a perfectly toasted slice of hearty bread. Apparently, my husband agrees. A few evenings ago, he came in from his man cave garage, clutching a dog-eared magazine, and stated, "We have to get this toaster." I paused my on-line scrabble game and glanced at the bright shiny object of his desire. It was a Calphalon, 2 slot, stainless steel toaster, complete with an "Opti-Heat system that ensures accurate temperature control and even heat delivery." According to the reviewer, the toaster is a wizard at browning to perfection anything you can stuff into its extra-wide jaws.

Before I was pulled into the vortex of complete enthrallment, I asked the question I always ask when I am presented with a possible purchase, "How much does it cost?" Pause. Rustling of the magazine page. "I think you can get it for around $60.00."

Pause. "Seriously?"

"Well, don't you want something that really works? You can't put a price on that."

I sighed and said, "Where's the surprise in life without playing toaster roulette with your bread each morning? Sometimes it comes out a little splotchy. Sometimes it is a bit charcoaly. Sometimes it is still cold in the middle. And every once in awhile you hit the lottery and get the perfect slice of toast."

Not impressed, my husband replied, "Good grief. Why not get it right every time? Here is a chance to up the morning odds for a decent piece of toast. I don't think you can put a price on consistency."

"My, my, haven't we come a long way from our first toaster."

I reminded him of how we procured our first toaster during the early years of married life. It came about rather serendipitously. My husband purchased a dollar box at an auction. Dollar boxes are filled with the miscellany of life. Sometimes you find treasures in them and sometimes you are stuck with a clinker. This time we scored. His box contained a no-nonsense, 2-slice toaster, crumbs included. We cleaned it up and grandly placed in on our countertop. The little toaster pumped out many slices of morning treats, perhaps not to perfection, but with complete economic flair.

Throughout the years, we have had a few more toasters. All were able to toast. All were inconsistent. All were less than $19.99.

Still not convinced that cheap preempts perfection, my husband closed his magazine and said, "I'm going to find this toaster," and back to his man cave he retreated.

I must confess that our conversation has made me more critical of our current Procter-Silex, dull white toaster. The plastic around the slots is a little melty. The knob that sets the toasting level doesn't seem to correlate with the finished product. The slots are too narrow for thicker slices of bread. Every crevice is sprinkled with petrified crumbs.

Maybe it is time for a stainless steel, extra-wide slotted beauty to enter my world. It is hard to resist a kitchen helper that has my safety in mind with her extra-lift lever and cool to the touch exterior. She would add an air of regal luxury to the kitchen and grant us our morning wishes.

I think I know what my husband is going to get for his next birthday.