On this most exceptional day, where I have actually a little time between the craziness that is my life, I am finding an excuse to blog about something quite strange. Somehow, I am compelled nonetheless. Using those two words: ‘compelled’ and ‘nonetheless’ is important to me and using them together in the same sentence makes me feel very happy. Indulge me.
Anyhoo, I have perhaps lulled you in with an odd and obscure title when really what I want to tell you about today is the craving I have. I am going out for lunch shortly, but am a little peckish and in order to prevent myself swooning before I get to my meeting place I felt obliged to make myself a little snack. Those who know me and love me, know that toast is my snack of choice – so toast is a given, but what to put on it?
This sense of wanting something unknown but specific came hurtling back from my memories of gestating when I would crave something salty, tangy, and creamy, all at once. And it had to be on toast. Back then, I went through my pantry, my sister’s pantry, my parents’ pantry and the pantries of friends (and you know I’ll make it up to you all, I swear) to figure out what it was I wanted. Hot buttery Vegemite toast wasn’t it. Tinned sardines with tomato sauce wasn’t it. And surprisingly, peanut butter with sweet chili sauce wasn’t it. Curry paste on toast also failed, as did olive tepanade and mayonnaise. French mustard by itself was close, but no banana. The baby I was gestating at the time was my middle child. He eats anything, but there is a price to pay – because he eats anything!
Finally I nailed it. Are you ready? Avocado (avodacado as it is called by our youngest) mashed with freshly milled pepper, salt and vinegar. Mmmmmmmm. On hot, buttery toast. Noice!
I wouldn’t recommend trying this on bread: it comes off looking like a snot sandwich and not tasting much better, but on hot buttery toast…Oh Baby!
And, no, I am not pregnant again.