Cookies

We use essential cookies to make our site work. We'd also like to set analytics cookies that help us make improvements by measuring how you use the site. These will be set only if you accept.

For more detailed information about the cookies we use, see our cookies page.

Essential Cookies

Essential cookies enable core functionality such as security, network management, and accessibility. For example, the selections you make here about which cookies to accept are stored in a cookie.

You may disable these by changing your browser settings, but this may affect how the website functions.

Analytics Cookies

We'd like to set Google Analytics cookies to help us improve our website by collecting and reporting information on how you use it. The cookies collect information in a way that does not directly identify you.

Third Party Cookies

Third party cookies are ones planted by other websites while using this site. This may occur (for example) where a Twitter or Facebook feed is embedded with a page. Selecting to turn these off will hide such content.

Skip to main content

Fire Toast

Fire Toast


Toasting bread on an open coal fire seems, according to my limited research among friends, to have been a regular activity in many parts of the country in the 1950s and probably until legislation brought about the banning of coal burning fires. 
I was used to my parents – and my dad in particular – providing excellent toast for my brothers and I. Eventually, of course, we were able to toast our own bread.


A coal fire could, with care, reach a state for perfect toasting. When some of the pieces of coal had burned to a coke-like state and lay on the metal grid at the base of the fire and whilst a kind of crust of coal had formed above the ‘coke’, the fire would glow red, orange and yellow with scarcely a flame to be seen - this was just the time for perfect toasting. On such occasions, a slice of bread would be attached to a toasting fork and held towards the fire – just the right distance away or the toast would be burnt or underdone. In a very short time the first side would be toasted, the slice reversed on the fork, and the second side done. Perfect toast was crisp on the outside and soft on the inside – simply crying out for a covering of butter! Of course, if slightly burnt, the crispy, burnt bits could be scraped off with a knife.  


My dad introduced our sons to bread toasted on the fire and they came to love it. They named it ‘fire toast’.
 

Fire Toast Fire Toast

When I was teaching at Donwell Primary School, the staff would regularly play badminton in the school hall on Friday evenings after the children had gone home. It was a splendid way to socialise and relax at the end of the week. My wife Sheila would collect our sons Stephen and Michael from school then take them the short distance to my parents’ home before returning to join the fun. When badminton was over, Sheila and I would go to collect the boys. Often, they would be sitting or lying beside my dad near to the fire where he would be toasting slice after slice of bread whilst mam diligently spread on Lurpak butter. Dad would grumble that his hand and arm were being burned by the heat from the fire and he would claim that they were “…eating me out of house and home,” but, secretly delighting in their attention and appreciation. Mam too!


Were Steve and Mike to be asked today who made the best toast, they would say that granddad’s ‘fire toast’ was undoubtedly the best.

 

John Suggett 2021