When I was growing up, any time I didn’t feel well, my dad would make me milk toast. This consisted of toasted bread in a bowl covered in sugar with warm milk poured on top. This is pure comfort food for me. Safe, warm, mild. Reminders of my dad’s loving care.
Tonight I arrived home late and ran through a few food possibilities for a late night supper. I decided upon milk toast. Mine is slightly different. 100% whole wheat bread instead of Mrs. Baird’s white and honey instead of sugar. My milk is nonfat warmed up with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. But the taste is pretty much the same and I can be assured that there is nothing in that bowl that will wake me up later with a tummy ache.
Here’s to my Dad’s milk toast and the love that went with it.
I hope all of you have an equivalent food that brings you warm memories and comfort.
On that note, I will close. My milk toast is starting to get soggy.
Until tomorrow.
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