Hello, friends.
This week happened, right? I mean, I know it happened, the memories are too acute and I’m too tired for it not to have happened, but it was so busy, and I was so tired, that it barely registered and feels almost like a fever dream than anything that actually happened.
Monday we took G up to Boston Children’s Hospital in Weymouth for what was supposed to be her last post-op visit, but since she has that infection that doesn’t seem to be clearing up, we have to go back next week. We got to visit a terrific Barnes & Noble in the area and that made things a little better. Then the following day I was back at it as Mr. Gauthier.
I came every day physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. Fun. Take the return to the Day Job and mix it with my body missing the Zepbound and making my Crohn’s disease symptoms worsen again, and it’s a recipe for exhaustion (I don’t think I can tell Blue Cross Blue Sheild to go fuck itself enough). But here I am, and let’s do this!
Welcome to the 189th installment of Gauthic Times, the newsletter about my writing, my life, and musings on toast. If you’re a reader who subscribes via Substack, my website, or Patreon, your encouragement helps motivate me. I’m thankful to have any audience.
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No writing work happened this week until sitting down to write the essay that follows and this newsletter. I intend to work more on Project: Memoir today. I added around 1,300 words last Sunday but haven’t worked on it since. I also haven’t worked on Four Moons or any of the other projects I long to work on. Trying to get my body, mind, and emotions back into some semblance of normalcy is taking a bit this year, likely because of the medication change (FU BCBS). But the mind doesn’t stop and I’m convinced somewhere in my head work is being done. I’ll take it.
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Last week as I sat to write the essay for the Gauthic Times newsletter, I bit into a slice of toast and thought, Why is toast so fucking good? Which brought me back to a song that my friend, the amazing artist and printmaker Kim Gatesman shared with me going on twenty years or so ago, which of course just solidified my thought process of wondering just why is toast so good? The answer I came to was this: Toast is so fucking good because it’s simple.
One of the first foods I learned to cook on my own was toast. Now, I use the term cook loosely here. If cooking is applying heat to food and then preparing it in some way, then toast is cooked. At least for a child. Slices of bread, some butter, and a whole lot of yums.
As we grow up, we’re taught that sophistication is better and simplification. That the flavor palette of food entices the diner through the combinations of seasoning, sauces, spices, and pairing with other appropriately made food. And it’s true. A well-seasoned, appropriately cooked steak with equally well-made sides is a delight. Chicken in its many forms is always a cause for celebrating. It can be simple or it can be complicated but it’s nearly always good. One may also turn toast gourmet depending on the breads and what toppings, spreads, or other accoutrement one adds to the toast. However, there’s really nothing like the simplicity of a slice of toasted bread with butter.
For me, I prefer a slice of white bread though have been known to accept certain wheat breads as long as there aren’t chunks of stuff in the bread or on the crust. If I want to elevate my toast game, rye bread is in order (which makes me want rye toast now. Pamela, if you’re reading this, please add rye bread to our shopping list. Maybe I can even make a sandwich with it. But I’ll mainly make toast). I didn’t like rye bread when I was a kid. I was wrong. It’s a delight, especially toasted.[1]
There are also the ways that one can elevate their toast if one chooses that helps make it a superior culinary experience. A little sprinkle of cinnamon and you suddenly have a dessert-like breakfast. Jelly, jam, or marmalade can change the experience, too, adding a little bit of sweet and fruit to make it better. Peanut butter can be great on toast. I even know some who would put Nutella on toast, though I find Nutella disturbing and refuse to touch the stuff.
Someone will likely point out French toast[2], though I think that doesn’t fall well into this conversation. Its very nature requires more time, skill, and energy to make than regular toast. If I’m bleary and waiting for my coffee to brew, I can make two slices of toast with one eye closed and the other barely open. You can’t do that with French toast. At least, I can’t. You need the pan/skillet, you need the bowl, you need eggs, you need cinnamon and nutmeg, you need butter, you need syrup. Preferably, you’ll have some powdered sugar to sift on it and some fresh fruit to accompany. French toast is no baguette that only needs butter. It’s a motherfuckin’ meal. Delicious, but not simple.
With the world the dumpster fire that it currently is, as climate change is hitting the points scientists have attempted to warn us about for fifty years, as the United States descends further into totalitarianism, as the U.S.’s food supply is increasingly dangerous in order to kill poor people, people of color, and anyone who isn’t an evil wannabe-emperor, toast can be a constant. Make your own bread and toast it. Locally sourced butter that’s not from corporate farms can adorn it. Simple. Safe. Delicious.
I think the simplicity of toast is what makes it so damn good. That crunch, followed by the softness of the inner bread, mixing with the buttery sauce that comes from the melted pat of butter isn’t complicated cuisine but it’s perfect.
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This week I finished the novel The Daughters of Block Island by Christa Carmen. It’s a terrific read that throws back to the gothic horror novels of the past but with a modern approach that heightens the entertainment. Carmen’s prose recreates the feel of those gothic novels while also being current. The result is a mystery/thriller that is rather satisfying. I believe this was her first novel and it makes me definitely want to check out the novels that have followed, Beneath the Poet’s House, and How to Fake a Haunting (a title that I absolutely love). I recommend this book.
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I’ll be taking part in the Merrimack Valley Halloween Book Festival on October 17th, 2026, at the Lawrence Public Library in Lawrence, Massachusetts. I’m excited because so many authors, editors, and people I admire will be there, as well as a few friends. Find out more here!
I will also be joining a panel about monsters and cosmic horror at Once Upon A Bookstore in Fall River, Massachusetts, about a week later!
I’ll share more info on both of these events as we get closer.
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[1] Fun fact: I rarely use the word delight. I’ve used it twice in this essay. If you’re wondering about my commitment to my thesis, look no further than this usage.
[2] Pamela said that if I should mention French toast, I should probably write about the origin of it. But this isn’t that kind of essay. Besides, would I mention the legend of Joseph French creating it but not putting an apostrophe S at the end of “French’s Toast” and instead called it “French Toast” in 1724? Or maybe I point out that Romans ate something akin to French toast called Pan Dulcis in the 5th century? Or maybe I can just refer to The Breakfast Shoppe.com, which says, “The phrase ‘French Toast’ first appeared in print in the Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink in 1871. But it is known by a variety of names including German toast, eggy bread, French-fried bread, gypsy toast, Poor Knights of Windsor, Spanish toast, nun’s toast, and pain perdu which means ‘lost bread’ in French.”
I don’t know. This isn’t that kind of essay.
Gautham: Bill Gauthier.com 
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