British food writer Nigel Slater once claimed that it’s impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you. I agree, but I’d add a caveat: as long as the toast on offer is hot enough to melt the butter without being completely charred. (It also helps if it’s dripping with honey, laden with peanut butter or covered in sweet lemon curd.) While I was living in Beirut a few years ago, it was difficult to get toast. A few cafés reckoned to serve it, but it was a pale imitation: wafer-thin, tepid triangles of processed white bread with butter that literally would not melt. It was only here among the flatbreads, the za’atar-filled manouches and the handbag-shaped, sesame seed–riddled breads of the Levant that I began to realize just how key this simple staple was to my sense of home This story is from Kinfolk Issue Sixteen Buy Now Related Stories Arts & Culture Issue 19 Going Incognito We all secretly wonder what mischief we’d make if invisible: When our identity is hidden, everything seems possible. Arts & Culture Issue 19 The Best Policy Sometimes we talk to each other without feeling heard. Honesty—a most intimate interaction—can be just as thrilling as its more devious inverse. Arts & Culture Issue 19 A Sense of Suspense With unhinged imaginations and mountains of cliff-hangers, the filmmakers behind the sci-fi podcast Limetown have all the makings of a scary story. Arts & Culture Issue 19 Like Clockwork In this new column about time, we learn how slipping off our watches makes us feel like deadline-damning renegades. Food Issue 19 My Kitchen Table: Dominique Crenn French-born chef Dominique Crenn knows how to keep a level head and relishes the nights when she gets to cook to her own soundtrack. Food Issue 19 Recipe: Chamomile Cookies When your day is filled with too much excitement, taking time to sit quietly with these calming morsels and a cup of tea could be just the antidote.