The Posh Paw Blog

Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?

A warm slice of cinnamon toast — not artisanal, not fancy, not even particularly pretty. Just thick white bread, toasted to the edge of burnt, with too much butter and a reckless blizzard of sugar and cinnamon. That’s it. That’s the time machine.

The moment it hits my tongue, I’m eight years old again — cross-legged on the carpet in my grandmother’s house, crumbs down my shirt, sunbeam in my eyes, and absolutely nothing urgent in the world except finishing my plate before the cartoons start.

She made it the same way every time: no measuring spoons, just instinct. She’d say, “You’ll know when it’s right,” which, as a kid, made no sense at all. But now? I get it. It’s not about perfect ratios. It’s about care, and knowing the difference between feeding someone and making them feel fed.

Cinnamon toast wasn’t a delicacy — it was a declaration. Of comfort. Of safety. Of a house that smelled like stories and soft sweaters and the quiet rhythm of love.

And now, decades later, I make it for myself. Still a little reckless with the sugar. Still a little too much butter. Still a little girl, somewhere inside, who remembers what it means to feel held.

Because some foods don’t just feed you.
They find you — in all the places time thought you forgot.

Stay fabulous,
Luce 💋