Sometimes I fail at being a Homesick Texan. Yes, yes, I know it may be hard to believe, but there are some challenges just too impossible to overcome.But first, let’s get something straight. That product called Texas toast you find in the freezer section of the grocery store? It may be toast, but it’s not Texas toast—it’s garlic bread. I don’t mean to disparage the stuff, which has lots of fans and I understand is quite tasty. But it’s so far from the real deal, I just felt it time to stand up, stomp my feet and say something.
I’ve ranted on this before and I will rant on this again: Texas is not an adjective to be used lightly, yet people love to throw it around, usually when trying to conjure a sense of great size. Last time I checked, Alaska was the biggest state in terms of land mass and California in terms of population. So why not Alaskan toast? Or Californian toast? OK, perhaps the lack of alliteration makes those names less snappy. And yes, perhaps we should be flattered, but there is a real food out there called Texas toast and it upsets me to see people eating something mislabeled.
So what exactly is Texas toast? It’s an inch-thick square slab of white bread—yes, the bad-for-you square slice that comes from a long, skinny loaf wrapped in plastic, labeled with a brand such as Mrs. Baird’s. It’s slathered in butter and broiled on both sides. No garlic, maybe some salt, and never, ever cheese. Take a bite and you’ll be in heaven—if heaven for you is a thick, buttery, crispy bite that leads to a soft and airy center.
Clearly, this isn’t cowboy chow or even something your great-great-grandmother cooked, such as chili or cornbread; it’s a by-product of commercial food—a fairly recent invention. The story goes that in 1941, Royce Hailey, owner of the Pig Stand chain, wanted a thicker slice of bread for his customers to mop up their gravy. His bread purveyor, Rainbo, complied, but since it was too thick for a conventional toaster, his cooks broiled it in the oven, heavily buttered on both sides. Royce dubbed it Texas toast and a new taste tradition was born.
You’ll find Texas toast all over the state, usually accompanying chicken fried steak or some other dish doused in cream gravy. In some parts of the state you’ll also get it with bbq, and not only is it available at the cafeteria but Whataburger has it, too. And if you want to make it at home in Texas, no problem, you can grab a Texas-toast-style loaf of bread at any grocery store. But you cannot find it outside of the South, I sadly discovered a few years ago. It’s not in restaurants and the special bread cannot be purchased anywhere. Yes, in case you’re wondering, Texas toast was my impossible dream.
A couple of years ago, a friend was making ribs for his Super Bowl party. I asked what I could contribute and he replied, “You’re a Texan, why not bring Texas toast?” I had never tried to make it in NYC but figured it shouldn’t be too difficult. Just pick up a loaf at the grocery, grab some butter and I’d be done. Right? Wrong! I searched countless grocery stores from the Bronx to the Battery and discovered that nobody sold it. Nobody! Instead, I was always directed to the freezer section and shown that mislabeled garlic bread. After pulling out my hair and crying, “Why, why, why?” I just gave up. You can’t make Texas toast with homemade bread, it just wouldn’t be the same; you need that thickly sliced commercial junk bread to get the right airy texture. So without a loaf, I was foiled. And I learned a sad lesson: if I want Texas toast, I have to go to Texas (or some other nearby state that sells the fixins for it).
Yes, I admit, Texas toast is about as classy as queso, but who cares? It’s tasty. And if you’ve never had the real deal, I highly recommend you try it next time you visit Texas or the South. I wish I had better news, but until they market Texas-toast-style loaves in far-flung places, Texas toast won’t be traveling too far from its home.
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