Yes – who would go to the effort of poaching pears only to stick them on a bit of toast?
It's mushing some avocado on to a bit of toast, but let's not burden ourselves with needless quibbles.
"When you live on your own and it gets to 5 o'clock, you think "oh, I'll just have a bit of toast", and it's not good".
More likely is that I'll just about manage to scoff some cornflakes or, if it's a particularly cold morning, I'll grab a bit of toast that I can eat in the car on the way to work.
If I've learned anything, having been there twice before and presenting one year, it's to have a couple of soft, poached eggs with a bit of toast at about 2pm because you're not going to get anything in your stomach until about 10.
A bit of freshly ground, toasted cumin gets on swimmingly with the lemon and grapefruit juice in the dressing, adding a bit of mystery to the otherwise straightforward, pristine march of flavors on the plate.
When you chomp into it, the sensation is of salt and corn and clean oil, a hint of spiciness, a bit of tartness from toasted cheese, and then the subtler crunch of well-handled shrimp.
As in, every Saturday the place is now chock-full of people pushing whatever the pram equivalent is of a Mitsubishi Shogun, stocking up on chanterelles, wooden toys and the interesting cheeses of the Haut-Pyrenées, before heading back home to spread something organic on a bit of artisanal toast and sack out in front of the telly.
As I scraped bits of toasted marshmallow off the side of the oblong bowl and swirled my spoon through the cinnamon-kissed diced apples at the base of the spicy purée, the aromas roused rosy remembrances of Thanksgivings past and swept away my outdated notions about the range of Philadelphia cuisine.
Garnish each bowl with a bit of remaining coriander and toasted almonds.
