For an Englishman, buttered toast and tea are the ultimate comfort foods. I can imagine the stalwart cavalrymen downing their tea and toast just before charging into the Valley of Death. My only quibble with this wonderful tradition is that they like their toast cold. What a horrible idea! Years ago someone, knowing my British background, gave me a cute little silver-plated rack with a handle on top. I thanked the donor for the pretty letter rack, giving her a hearty laugh at my expense. It was a toast-cooling rack.
My family used hot toast as a medicinal. Sick kids got toast, cut up into little squares if we were having trouble swallowing. (My dad advocated hot lemonade with a shot of whiskey in addition to the toast.) We were given toast when we came dragging home from school, especially if it was damp and cold outside. For a special treat, it was buttered and then topped with cinnamon-sugar, better than cookies by far! Of course in those days, unfortunately, it was margerined, not buttered.
To this day, even the fragrance of buttered toast makes me feel calm and happy. Add a nice cup of tea and all will be right with the world.
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