Grandma Bori toast

The other day, I just had to have something that I enjoyed as a kid, especially when I was at my grandmother’s house or if she happened to be staying at ours: Grandma Bori Toast.

It really is nothing special, and yet it is. If a kid likes peanut butter, he/she will love this.

My grandmother spoiled me, and in retrospect, given the life I had with a widowed, working mom who really wasn’t all that warm of a human being to her kids, it was a blessing.

She did all sorts of things for me and her toast was memorable. I made it for my kids and yesterday I tried it on one of the grandkids for the first time. She had a bite, but wasn’t all that enthused.

It is simple to make and yet gloriously good and messy.

You take the toast, whatever kind of bread it happens to be, and you butter both sides before putting a light coating of peanut butter on both sides. Messy to pick up, it forces you to lick your fingers.

It is decadent. It is truly an odd legacy. One would never think anything like that would be memorable.

My grandmother added into it all by cutting the bread into small squares, making it a little easier to eat, given the mess it entailed.

In so many respects, my grandmother had a sad life. She came to the U.S. when she was nineteen, all-alone, for some sort of adventure. She joined her sister in Cleveland and ended up marrying my grandfather, ostensibly to be taken back to Hungary. WWI broke out and the return plans were dashed.

She and my grandfather fought like dogs during their entire lives and what a shock I had when she died and my grandfather lamented his loss. She had always said to me that she hoped he would go first and then she would be able to go to church without being criticized (she was Greek Catholic). She always enjoyed taking me to church; it was a perfect excuse since we were practicing Catholics. One of the ironies of her passing is that my grandfather wanted her to have a protestant, Hungarian Reformed church funeral for her, full of fire and brimstone.

Again, what a funny legacy. I hope my grandmother is happier where she is now than she was in her lifetime.

About Richard Koerner

Sixty something, father, papi, educator, organizer, Francophile, traveler, amateur photographer, gardener, cyclist, kayaker, calligrapher, cinephile, reader, and overall renaissance type human being.
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