But as Annie pressed on us morsel after morsel of crisp bread, rye or wheat or rolled oat or flecked with undigested bits of rosemary, a veritable Symphony of Toast, we realized we were in the presence of something special. What a rare treat, we each thought, as we took turns using the chair. That brunch-like gathering gave us a chance to contemplate, each in our own way, what toast had meant to us as citizens, as artists, as human beings. Today I am offering you a similar chance. I am offering you a hymn to toast.
Bread is the staff of life.
Bread is a convenient and useful platform for all of nature's edible bounty. Bread is cheap and eaten by both rich and poor. Bread is a good insulator, a bad conductor of electricity, and an unusual brooch or pendant. But bread is cold. It comesout of the oven warm, but then it cools down, and very soon you have cold bread.