Katie Schwartz

If you don't want to scroll down, click to read Butter my Bread ? Some of my favey bloggers don't understand why I butter my bread and don't eat it, so lemme splain. It's not torture. It's a routine I used to have every morning. I love the ritualistic aspect of it. By going through the motion, I can actually feel the texture of the hot buttery toast melting in my mouth and it gives me pleasure. I don't watch it consecutively for 30-minutes. I glance at it in passing while I'm getting ready or while I'm checking email or drinking coffee, or shmoozing on the phone. Knowing it's there brings me comfort. I've had too much change in the past 8 months. I need some semblance of continuity and for some bizarre reason, I find it in toast. I feel guilty because there are so many starving people in the world and to invest money and time into something that you aren't going to use is frivolous and inconsiderate. I know. It's just toast . Still. The g...

This admission might result in some blogemmies and outright break-up's. I hope it doesn't, but I am ready to live with the consequences of sharing my dirty little secret. Ok. Ready? Set. Go. One of my guilty pleasures is that every single morning, I take a fresh, homemade slice of sourdough bread and pop it into the toaster. I watch as my sumptuous soft bread turns to a golden crispy beige and then I immediately take it out of the toaster, so it burns my fingers just a teeeeeeeeeeny tinnnnnnny bit. I carefully butter the center and each corner, listening to the crunch and watching the hot bread soak up chilled pats of butter and then.... well. I watch my buttered toast for 30 minutes. Not like consecutively or anything, that's creepy. I watch it intermittently. And then I throw it away. I'm on a fucking diet . I feel terribly guilty about it, just not enough to like, you know, stop. Not yet anyway. Cut me some slack. I don't just loooooooove this particular sourdoug...