Back in 1997, Loaded took the executive decision to pit slice against slice in the ultimate showdown of toast supremacy. History had clearly shown it to be the snack of kings for fireside munchies, but key questions remained unanswered. So, we set out on a quest to find the best of the best – the Top Gun of toast – and, using our loaf, the Toast Olympics were born.
Taking gold back in ‘97? The pain de campagne. The Loaded team commented at the time “it holds butter like a fine crumpet, but without collapsing”. That final part was notably uncharacteristic for the French, but with “dough so succulent and fragrant a little mouse princess could sleep in it” it proved every inch a worthy winner.
But times have changed and bread has moved on. You only have to browse the supermarket bakery aisle today to see everything from focaccias and gluten-free forms to sourdough muscling in on the action. Some people even own breadmakers… indeed, they walk among us. We’re also still being scalded by a cost-of-living crisis and food inflation, meaning the humble loaf has become more vital than ever. High time, then, after a 27-year hiatus, to resurrect the Toast Olympics.
When it comes to judging the complexities of thick, buttery toast, fortunately, some things remain unchanged. This is the Olympics after all – historic rules are sacrosanct and fair competition must be upheld. Hence we’ll be operating under the same conditions as ‘97 using pure butter only. Today’s Lurpack prices dictate it won’t pass on expenses anyway, half-fat makes toast soggy, and olive oil-based spreads are deemed too exotic. Brexit means Brexit.
It’s important to note not all dough-based derivatives qualify just because you can toast them. Bagels are banned because they’re still just a roll even after toasting. Rye bread is out after being reminded that mould that grows on it used to send sailors into mad hallucinations and may have even caused the Salem Witch Trials.
Sensing perfection has already been achieved, humanity has seen fit to largely leave the toaster alone, so we’ve opted for a fairly bog-standard four-slice model, plus a bread knife big enough to gut a shark.
Like qualifying for the 100-metre dash, you can’t just raise yeast and expect to waltz into the final. After a debate lasting roughly four pints and a fish finger sandwich, we’ve whittled things down to 12 contenders, all available from the food arm of the John Lewis Partnership (other supermarkets are available). Bets have been placed, and heated words exchanged, but finally, we’re ready to toast.
Questions that need answering to progress to the toast endgame:
- ‘How well does it take butter?’: No soggy ends.
- ‘Does it disintegrate in the toaster?’: Must not be a fire hazard.
- ‘How does it taste?’: It’s only going in one orifice.
- ‘Is it crunchy and filling?’: We don’t want cardboard dipped in milk.
Immediately a throng surrounds the toaster, fingers get licked, and micro-organic infections are carried hand to mouth. Straight away, it’s clear seeded, granary and bloomers get yelps of approval. The quintessentially English wholemeal and white sliced soon come into play. You couldn’t have a more British belly full if you laced Constable’s Hay Wain with Coleman’s mustard and slipped it down with a pint of bitter.
It’s worth noting nobody is fooled by Hovis’s Best of Both. Sliced bread with an equal blend of white and wholemeal flour is sacrilege. The loaf of procrastinators. As for Waitrose’s own brand Soft White Toastie Thick Sliced, we find ourselves siding with ‘Onlymeesortiaw’, an online reviewer from Hampshire, who comments: “I’m looking for a white loaf which isn’t claggy. No success yet.”
Down to six, and on a second tasting, the passion for olive bread swiftly drains as it’s depressingly summery and tinged with optimism – toast should invoke a sense of cosiness and hunkering down.
A bloat rating now comes into play. Many novelty breads take an early bath. While a few sensory elements become crucial. Smell is taken into account, so is the feel of the slice against the face, and finally its taste and resistance to an average golf swing to test robustness. Ultimately, however, it has to come down to taste.
Landing a very commendable bronze medal, it’s Hovis Wholemeal. While duller than a Pearl Jam concert, there’s still valuable reassurance from the heritage delivered with every slice. One for the purists, It toasts excellently without going soggy when buttered.
Finishing second, and likely to rile the real ale mob, it’s a new-age hipster offering; The Black Sheep Craft Bakery White Tiger Bloomer. Thick sliced with a ‘tiger crust’, it’s bordering on arrogant. We’ll also overlook Black Sheep’s suggestion of “a toasted slice with avocado, salsa and chipotle mayonnaise” – absurd to the point of offensive – because chomping it down with butter is a taste sensation. So satisfying Gregg Wallace would choose it over his son.
Taking gold, however, with all the sophistication of Monica Belluci in a risque playsuit, it’s the Crosta & Mollica Pane Pugliese. An irresistable combination of golden durum wheat and lievito madre – or mother yeast – this Italian toasting thoroughbred Pugliese bread is characterised by large holes in a well-structured crumb allowing melted butter to gather like a flash mob.
Crunch factor is off the scale here, making it a precarious midnight snack without waking your significant other, but we’re hooked like a crack addict spending the spoils of a successful day’s begging.
The contenders
4 Jackson’s Multigrain Brown Bloomer
7 Black Sheep Craft Bakery White Tiger Bloomer
11 Crosta & Mollica Pane Pugliese
The winners
Gold: Crosta & Mollica Pane Pugliese
Silver: Black Sheep Craft Bakery White Tiger Bloomer
Bronze: Hovis Wholemeal