How to make the perfect toastie

Are toasties the ultimate comfort food? For me, they have to be in the top three at the very least. Toasties mean late nights or early suppers; they mean eating in the kitchen, standing up, or sitting on the sofa, probably in your pyjamas; they mean picking the little bits of escaped melted cheese from the pan before you plate them. They mean waning hangovers and catch-ups with close friends; they mean solitude and they mean company; they mean ease and speed, a direct route to something crisp and hot and oozing. But crucially, toasties are completely delicious. They don’t rely on nostalgia (although I have plenty of nostalgia for them) to deliver their comfort, they aren’t bland nursery food, or esoteric family favourites. Toasties hold their own.

When I was little, Sunday night suppers were Dad’s domain, and that meant toasties. He used to make them in a Breville sandwich maker, creating those distinctive triangular toastie pockets, encasing tomato and cheese that was still hotter than the sun by the time it reached your mouth.