Kate Phillips: Why the humble slice of toast can make or break a marriage

Recently, I’ve become interested in cooking.

Not because I’ve just started doing it.

I’ve been cooking breakfasts, lunches, or dinners (or all three) daily for the past 14 years.

That’s called marriage.

But because I recently discovered The New York Times’ recipe collection.

It’s essentially to foodies what Tay Tay is to Swifties.

And this week I attempted my first one.

I made “Marry Me Chicken” (ironic, I know).

It’s meant to be so fabulous that the person eating it will want to put a ring on it.

And while I didn’t want a ring, I did want to eat a meal that good.

My boss also decided to cook it that night (no pressure). She texted me a photo when she’d finished and it looked just like the original.

My dish, however, did not.

Mine resembled ever so slightly a bowl of red vomit.

But, luckily, it didn’t taste like one.

The dish actually tasted pretty good, but even cooked to perfection it wouldn’t make me want to marry me.

There’s only one meal that would make me want to marry anyone though.

When made right, it’s the holy grail of comfort food.

I’m talking about the humble slice of toast.

Not only is it delicious, but how someone makes it tells you a lot about them.

If they like it cold, or burnt, or skimp on the butter — run.

Because chances are they’ll be a cold, bitter, miser who can’t make toast.

And let’s be honest, marriage is hard enough without dealing with that.