When I was a small child, a great treat of mine was a banana sliced on white, buttered bread. Mine was a family which didn’t have bananas in the house very often, and when the opportunity presented itself I would eat it in bliss, sprinkled with brown sugar if I could get it.
Somehow, in this era of the exotic, the organic, the seeded and the wholegrain, this has remained in my memory as a simple comfort food. An antidote to the overly complex and the worthy. A balm to the breakfast soul.
This morning I split and generously buttered a white bagel and sliced my banana onto it. I experienced a strange frisson of nostalgia as the taste of the salty butter and sweet, soft banana sparked memories of being five again.
Pure time travel.