https://notesontoast.com Notes on Toast Thu, 28 May 2026 13:32:45 +0000 https://notesontoast.com en https://notesontoast.com/Home Tue, 15 Nov 2022 21:12:25 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Home A collection of notes on food, taste, and culinary curiosities. Learn more. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Thanks for visiting!&nbsp; https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-breakfast Wed, 17 Jan 2024 09:15:56 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-breakfast Noteson breakfast, &nbsp;&nbsp; on recipes, &nbsp; on meals, &nbsp;&nbsp; on dessert,&nbsp; &nbsp; on hosting01 Ciabatta bread, sliced and fried on a hot pan with lots of butter until its surface seals with the Maillard reaction, is a breakfast you should try soon. 02 “First we eat, then we do everything else.” — M.F.K. Fisher 03 “Breakfast, then, can be toast. It can be piles of toast, generously buttered, and a bowl of honey or jam, and milk for Mortimer and coffee for you.”&nbsp;— M.F.K. Fisher 04 “Sé que salías de un café de la rue du Cherche-Midi y que nos hablamos.” — Julio Cortázar https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-recipes Sat, 03 Feb 2024 09:37:08 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-recipes Noteson breakfast, &nbsp;&nbsp; on recipes, &nbsp; on meals, &nbsp;&nbsp; on dessert,&nbsp; &nbsp; on hosting01 Always have:LemonsBay leavesBerriesNutsAvocadosGarlic 02 “Accept the indisputable fact that most breads take about four hours to make, from start to finish, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” — from&nbsp;Bill Brown’s Rules for Breadmakers https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-meals Sat, 03 Feb 2024 09:38:26 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-meals Noteson breakfast, &nbsp;&nbsp; on recipes, &nbsp; on meals, &nbsp;&nbsp; on dessert,&nbsp; &nbsp; on hosting01 You will notice moderation operates in direct correlation to happiness. 02 “It wasn’t the fish or the duck; it was their experience; the fragrance in our memory, fleeting and indelible.” — M.F.K. Fisher 03 “A great meal is an experience that nourishes more than your body.” —Ruth Reichl 04 “One of the stupidest things in an earnest but stupid school of culinary thought is that each of the three daily meals should be balanced”.&nbsp;— M.F.K. Fisher 05 “The chef, a woman, announced the menu: cured ham and melon, trout with almonds, and raspberry tart. The trout had just come from the stream and the raspberries from the garden. It was this immediacy that made those dishes so special.” — Alice Waters 06 “There is communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk.”― M.F.K. Fisher https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-dessert Sat, 03 Feb 2024 09:41:18 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-dessert Noteson breakfast, &nbsp;&nbsp; on recipes, &nbsp; on meals, &nbsp;&nbsp; on dessert,&nbsp; &nbsp; on hosting01 Then came the dessert composed of butter, cheese and hickory nuts. 02 Why do you still ask yourself whether they’ll like your slightly savory, whole grain desserts? They will, and if they don’t, it's because their palates have been broken. 03 Fig newtons are unbalanced because dates are basic not acidic. 04 A mug cake is never a good idea. https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-hosting Sat, 03 Feb 2024 09:46:56 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Notes-home-hosting Noteson breakfast, &nbsp;&nbsp; on recipes, &nbsp; on meals, &nbsp;&nbsp; on dessert,&nbsp; &nbsp; on hosting 01 Be scant spending on yourself so you can buy good anchovies for your guests. 02 You will spend days preparing and at points agonizing. 03&nbsp; But when your guests arrive and they cannot conceive why you are so tired or why you had to plan so far out in advance – do not talk about it. You’ll gain nothing detailing the swelling of your feet from 6 hours of standing over your kitchen counter. 04 The days before receiving guests are little gifts of solitude. Successful hosting will break this period providing you with just the right amount of motivation to prepare for the next time, alone again. 05 First and foremost are the guests and conversation. The food, much to your dismay, is an afterthought. 06 “Dinner did not interrupt conversation. They talked of the affair which had occasioned the visit, of the war, of business, of other things which made a bad dinner passably good.” — Brillat-Savarin 07 Draw attention away from the food, away from how good it is and how yes, it comes naturally now, but not before having been a studied art of yours.08 Convenience is not a dirty word. 09 “Commit yourself to a clean-as-you-go policy.” — Morning Food https://notesontoast.com/Proust-s-Madeleine Thu, 28 May 2026 13:32:45 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Proust-s-Madeleine Proust’s Madeleine5.28.2026, archive, culture&nbsp; by Marcel Proust <img width="1490" height="2190" width_o="1490" height_o="2190" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0397769d2b57ba1c12680e0ff842897d092ae7abe6632dde0ffc97913e49ef65/Prousts_Madeleine_Notes_on_Toast.png" data-mid="248906290" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0397769d2b57ba1c12680e0ff842897d092ae7abe6632dde0ffc97913e49ef65/Prousts_Madeleine_Notes_on_Toast.png" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; I feel that there is much to be said for the Celtic belief that the souls of those whom we have lost are held captive in some inferior being, in an animal, in a plant, in some inanimate object, and so effectively lost to us until the day (which to many never comes) when we happen to pass by the tree or to obtain possession of the object which forms their prison. Then they start and tremble, they call us by our name, and as soon as we have recognised their voice the spell is broken. We have delivered them: they have overcome death and return to share our life. And so it is with our own past. It is a labour in vain to attempt to recapture it: all the efforts of our intellect must prove futile. The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect. And as for that object, it depends on chance whether we come upon it or not before we ourselves must die. Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray, save what was comprised in the theatre and the drama of my going to bed there, had any existence for me, when one day in winter, as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. &nbsp; &nbsp; She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate, a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory--this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I was conscious that it was connected with the taste of tea and cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same nature as theirs. Whence did it come? What did it signify? How could I seize upon and define it? &nbsp; &nbsp; I drink a second mouthful, in which I find nothing more than in the first, a third, which gives me rather less than the second. It is time to stop; the potion is losing its magic. It is plain that the object of my quest, the truth, lies not in the cup but in myself. The tea has called up in me, but does not itself understand, and can only repeat indefinitely with a gradual loss of strength, the same testimony; which I, too, cannot interpret, though I hope at least to be able to call upon the tea for it again and to find it there presently, intact and at my disposal, for my final enlightenment. I put down my cup and examine my own mind. It is for it to discover the truth. But how? What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; when it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail it nothing. &nbsp; &nbsp; Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not so far exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day. And I begin again to ask myself what it could have been, this unremembered state which brought with it no logical proof of its existence, but only the sense that it was a happy, that it was a real state in whose presence other states of consciousness melted and vanished. I decide to attempt to make it reappear. I retrace my thoughts to the moment at which I drank the first spoonful of tea. I find again the same state, illumined by no fresh light. I compel my mind to make one further effort, to follow and recapture once again the fleeting sensation. And that nothing may interrupt it in its course I shut out every obstacle, every extraneous idea, I stop my ears and inhibit all attention to the sounds which come from the next room. And then, feeling that my mind is growing fatigued without having any success to report, I compel it for a change to enjoy that distraction which I have just denied it, to think of other things, to rest and refresh itself before the supreme attempt. And then for the second time I clear an empty space in front of it. I place in position before my mind's eye the still recent taste of that first mouthful, and I feel something start within me, something that leaves its resting-place and attempts to rise, something that has been embedded like an anchor at a great depth; I do not know yet what it is, but I can feel it mounting slowly; I can measure the resistance, I can hear the echo of great spaces traversed. &nbsp; &nbsp; Undoubtedly what is thus palpitating in the depths of my being must be the image, the visual memory which, being linked to that taste, has tried to follow it into my conscious mind. But its struggles are too far off, too much confused; scarcely can I perceive the colourless reflection in which are blended the uncapturable whirling medley of radiant hues, and I cannot distinguish its form, cannot invite it, as the one possible interpreter, to translate to me the evidence of its contemporary, its inseparable paramour, the taste of cake soaked in tea; cannot ask it to inform me what special circumstance is in question, of what period in my past life. Will it ultimately reach the clear surface of my consciousness, this memory, this old, dead moment which the magnetism of an identical moment has travelled so far to importune, to disturb, to raise up out of the very depths of my being? I cannot tell. Now that I feel nothing, it has stopped, has perhaps gone down again into its darkness, from which who can say whether it will ever rise? Ten times over I must essay the task, must lean down over the abyss. And each time the natural laziness which deters us from every difficult enterprise, every work of importance, has urged me to leave the thing alone, to drink my tea and to think merely of the worries of to-day and of my hopes for to-morrow, which let themselves be pondered over without effort or distress of mind. And suddenly the memory returns. &nbsp; &nbsp; The taste was that of the little crumb of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before church-time), when I went to say good day to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of real or of lime-flower tea. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it; perhaps because I had so often seen such things in the interval, without tasting them, on the trays in pastry-cooks' windows, that their image had dissociated itself from those Combray days to take its place among others more recent; perhaps because of those memories, so long abandoned and put out of mind, nothing now survived, everything was scattered; the forms of things, including that of the little scallop-shell of pastry, so richly sensual under its severe, religious folds, were either obliterated or had been so long dormant as to have lost the power of expansion which would have allowed them to resume their place in my consciousness. But when from a longdistant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection. And once I had recognized the taste of the crumb of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like the scenery of a theatre to attach itself to the little pavilion, opening on to the garden, which had been built out behind it for my parents (the isolated panel which until that moment had been all that I could see); and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I was sent before luncheon, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine. And just as the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with water and steeping in it little crumbs of paper which until then are without character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch themselves and bend, take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or people, permanent and recognisable, so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann's park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and of its surroundings, taking their proper shapes and growing solid, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, all from my cup of tea. from Marcel Proust’s Swann’s Way, Volume I of In Search of Lost Time https://notesontoast.com/What-is-a-Sandwich Wed, 20 May 2026 20:21:36 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/What-is-a-Sandwich What is a Sandwich?5.20.2026, archive, culture &nbsp; &nbsp; Five or so years ago, on a visit to California to visit my brother Santi, I sat down for lunch at Zuni Cafe unaware of the philsophical journey I was headed for. Our friend Will joined us. A table for three and a roast chicken to share. “Roast Chicken with Warm Bread Salad” is precisely what the menu read. And that’s exactly what arrived! Which is why I began to lose it when Santi called the dish a sandwich. &nbsp; &nbsp; I had already spent 8 hours prior in the car with him, 4 of which were spent without cell service driving through Big Sur. Which is not a bad place to lose service at all. But we were hungry, sleep deprived, and the only music we had downloaded was Billie Eilish’s Happier Than Ever album.&nbsp; <img width="1536" height="2048" width_o="1536" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/956882e85d53d5f59cf667d2aeee37fdec94f6e7636cdc64f58fac7d52b9a718/Zuni_Chicken_Notes_on_Toast.JPG" data-mid="248562550" border="0" alt="Santi&rsquo;s sandwich at Zuni Cafe, August 2021" data-caption="Santi’s sandwich at Zuni Cafe, August 2021" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/956882e85d53d5f59cf667d2aeee37fdec94f6e7636cdc64f58fac7d52b9a718/Zuni_Chicken_Notes_on_Toast.JPG" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “This sandwich is so good,” Santi said calmly at our table. Will began to grin. I warned him not to engage. It was too late. “The sandwich is excellent,” he said to the waiter. The waiter let out a nervous laugh. &nbsp; &nbsp; It turns out Santi’s fork had caught a piece of bread, had skewered through some chicken, a salad leaf and was then topped off with more bread. This, he claims, is a sandwich.&nbsp; <img width="628" height="1128" width_o="628" height_o="1128" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/fce19563eaa31eb5148f5e6063b47c682a26bacf34404d492ce7625c3d3f4a21/Screen-Shot-2026-05-19-at-11.34.20.png" data-mid="248562591" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/628/i/fce19563eaa31eb5148f5e6063b47c682a26bacf34404d492ce7625c3d3f4a21/Screen-Shot-2026-05-19-at-11.34.20.png" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; Santi owns up to his definition. His skewer that day was a sandwich, he thinks a cheeseburger is a sandwich, an Oreo is a sandwich. An oyster however, because its shells are hinged and not parallel to eachother, is not a sandwich. He follows through and is consistent. <img width="3024" height="4032" width_o="3024" height_o="4032" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/73304d429d30cc33e364cc594fc49ab52be2303a820ba9dbdbd9eade0bd98dfa/Toast_on_Notes.jpg" data-mid="248562594" border="0" alt="Our waiter gave Santi crayons" data-caption="Our waiter gave Santi crayons" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/73304d429d30cc33e364cc594fc49ab52be2303a820ba9dbdbd9eade0bd98dfa/Toast_on_Notes.jpg" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; Opposite to Santi’s school of thought, I’ve adopted a more Aristotelian approach to sandwich. For me, sandwich is, put simply, that which has sandwichness. &nbsp; &nbsp; Take soup, for example. You could define soup as broadly as “liquid in a bowl,” but pour that same liquid in a cup and your definition begins to crumble. Either you assume the consequences and admit this is no longer a soup (ridiculous), or you alter the definition until you are consistent (polite).&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; Picture a cream of mushroom soup. Surely this is “liquid in a bowl” — a soup. Remove the mushrooms entirely, swap the salt and spices for cinnamon sugar. Take the cream and switch it out for milk. We are just toying with the recipe after all. Harmlessly substituting ingredients. Those garlicky croutons? They’ve turned into frosted mini wheats. You now have a bowl of cereal — please don’t call this soup. &nbsp; &nbsp; If, however, we define soup as that which has soupness, then soup is unbreakable. Soup can be in a cup, it can be cold, drunk from a straw, frozen and not be called a popsicle. A popsicle is a popsicle and soup is soup.&nbsp;So what has sandwichness? Those subtances which possess essence of sandwich. But we musn’t randomly define essence of sandwich. To fully understand sandwich, we need to know certain aspects of sandwich — its four causes. The Four Causes (loosely) Material Cause: The physical stuff it is made of Bread and various fillings such as but not limited to: turkey, cheese, lettuce, peanut butter &amp; jellyFormal Cause: The form or structural design A piece of bread, one or more fillings, another piece of bread on topEfficient Cause: The craftsperson who makes it A cook, chef or an ordinary person, sometimes a machineFinal Cause: The purpose or reason it exists Portable, utensil-free, convenient, to be eaten &nbsp; &nbsp; So even if an Oreo cookie is sandwiching the creme filling, even if we commonly call it a cookie sandwich, this is not a sandwich. It is a cookie. &nbsp; &nbsp; None of this should lead you to conclude that sandwich is in the eye of the beholder. Sandwich is not subjective, and the fact that we can’t agree on sandwich doesn’t mean sandwich doesn’t exist. I’ve made peace knowing I may never reach true sandwich. But sandwich is out there and is worth seeking. It’s the pursuit that makes life worth living. https://notesontoast.com/Scribbles Wed, 11 Mar 2026 20:40:49 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/Scribbles <img width="4500" height="3096" width_o="4500" height_o="3096" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/40a8700812b96c49f480070c8cb2ec1c663f8ba06812b45bc17892006cc4549c/Scribbles_Notes_on_Toast_01.jpg" data-mid="245907574" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/40a8700812b96c49f480070c8cb2ec1c663f8ba06812b45bc17892006cc4549c/Scribbles_Notes_on_Toast_01.jpg" /> Scribbles3.11.2026, archive, culture&nbsp; &nbsp; Over the past few years, Notes on Toast has been my place to think about food and&nbsp; the moments surrounding it — why certain food endure, why some simple things, like bread and butter, can make you feel fulfilled. While working on the site, I kept coming back to one idea: What would it look like to make a small food product with the same philosophy as this site that I have been building? Not a brand built around trends or novelty. Just something thoughtful and a little nostalgic. So for the past year or so I’ve been working on something called Scribbles. &nbsp; &nbsp; Scribbles is a small-batch cookie bakery inspired by the kinds of biscuits you find in European or Japanese cafés. The sort that are meant to be eaten with coffee in the afternoon or slipped into a tin on the kitchen counter. They’re simple, buttery cookies with delicate shapes that look almost hand-drawn. The idea is the same one that guides Notes on Toast: good ingredients, well-studied recipes, and a deep respect for the moments that leave lasting impressions.You can try freshly baked Scribbles in Houston by ordering online scribblescookies.com, and follow along @eatscribbles <img width="4500" height="3096" width_o="4500" height_o="3096" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6ad5855f5ad0a7632e43ab1544175df05683e52400d0cb7ccc091900fe7b1828/Scribbles_Notes_on_Toast_02.jpg" data-mid="245907636" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/6ad5855f5ad0a7632e43ab1544175df05683e52400d0cb7ccc091900fe7b1828/Scribbles_Notes_on_Toast_02.jpg" /> <img width="6176" height="4312" width_o="6176" height_o="4312" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/af61f5d02e7cf346449c0ca12459e7874d01a0e0ec8d9711ca4b51670bb5523e/Scribbles_Simple.jpg" data-mid="247905054" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/af61f5d02e7cf346449c0ca12459e7874d01a0e0ec8d9711ca4b51670bb5523e/Scribbles_Simple.jpg" /> <img width="6325" height="4448" width_o="6325" height_o="4448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/031665a152ac6a24e6374a13eb6691c1d91248753cf5608d838853d31d86b143/Scribbles_Small.jpg" data-mid="247905055" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/031665a152ac6a24e6374a13eb6691c1d91248753cf5608d838853d31d86b143/Scribbles_Small.jpg" /> <img width="6471" height="4544" width_o="6471" height_o="4544" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3c6ccbcd7bd3e904a3888ec6f7f9c1a0303975937f1478af69b738e5e68bc680/Scribbles_Not_Too_Sweet.jpg" data-mid="247905052" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3c6ccbcd7bd3e904a3888ec6f7f9c1a0303975937f1478af69b738e5e68bc680/Scribbles_Not_Too_Sweet.jpg" /> <img width="4028" height="5000" width_o="4028" height_o="5000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c4615f22fc84c4d1f423c1b679231cc68f3b9eb25b459407a6bbb6858faca620/Scribbles_Assorted_Box_02.jpg" data-mid="247905088" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c4615f22fc84c4d1f423c1b679231cc68f3b9eb25b459407a6bbb6858faca620/Scribbles_Assorted_Box_02.jpg" /> <img width="4028" height="5000" width_o="4028" height_o="5000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/601df4297deab459fd918a6e24b5654ac1dc8278a46d9cc77fd4354f44928065/Scribbles_Chocolate_Portal_Product_01.jpg" data-mid="247905091" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/601df4297deab459fd918a6e24b5654ac1dc8278a46d9cc77fd4354f44928065/Scribbles_Chocolate_Portal_Product_01.jpg" /> <img width="4028" height="5000" width_o="4028" height_o="5000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/254d480cc59d2967a574c761cff90f11bd9f445c4d0c5ee79e0f0dadc2fb15f9/Scribbles_Berry_Buttons_Product_01.jpg" data-mid="247905065" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/254d480cc59d2967a574c761cff90f11bd9f445c4d0c5ee79e0f0dadc2fb15f9/Scribbles_Berry_Buttons_Product_01.jpg" /> https://notesontoast.com/On-Wagashi Wed, 10 Jan 2024 09:27:59 +0000 Notes on Toast https://notesontoast.com/On-Wagashi <img width="1624" height="802" width_o="1624" height_o="802" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/fe3cc1a9da7e7ec4f965449c3f5b57ca4fe20a4ce8b04ac41dad869017fa3e4f/about-img--02-1.jpg" data-mid="201536031" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/fe3cc1a9da7e7ec4f965449c3f5b57ca4fe20a4ce8b04ac41dad869017fa3e4f/about-img--02-1.jpg" /> On Wagashi1.12.2024, culture,&nbsp;cover image: wagashi design manual vía Toraya Group, Japan &nbsp; &nbsp; Wagashi are traditional Japanese confections made from mochi, fruit, nuts, bean paste and other plant-based ingredients. Their beautiful colors, shapes and designs are inspired by nature and change seasonally. The earliest versions of wagashi were made from ground nuts and sweeteners, like honey and sweet arrowroot. Chinese and Portuguese influence brought different cooking methods to their elaboration and most notably, introduced cane sugar. “The Portuguese played an essential role in the development of wagashi. During the Age of Discovery, merchants and missionaries from Portugal and other European countries came to Japan to initiate trading and spread the Christian religion. At the same time, they were the first to bring to Japan European confections, such as a type of sponge cake that became known as castella and is still popular in Japan today.” — National Diet Library Japan &nbsp; &nbsp; Wagashi continued to evolve with influence from China, Portugal, and other Western cultures. It became popular as a snack at tea ceremonies and was considered a luxury consumed by the upper-class. The earliest known wagashi confectionary businesses in Japan were established in the early 16th century, but their true splendor began during the Edo Period (1603-1863). The Edo Period was one of prolonged peace, commercial propesperity, and an increased interest in artistic developments. During this time, Japan was also building a stronger identity: “The Edo period was also marked by a national isolation policy that was enforced in all but a few areas of the country. Thus, it was a time when all aspects of Japan’s unique culture were enriched. Wagashi became refined in terms of their delicious taste, of course, but also their makers’ craftsmanship. Consequently, Wagashi that were very similar to those seen today came into being. Exchanges between Japan and the outside world flourished with the arrival of the Meiji period (beginning in 1869). As modern ovens and other devices entered Japan, new Wagashi were born with the invention of more and more types, including some that were baked. What resulted are the Wagashi that we enjoy today.”— Tokyo Wagashi Association, 2019 <img width="536" height="351" width_o="536" height_o="351" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c64a7f20f0183d1270d9d9de8727bceb225f1e7c9a2d5d33741348f9c0be835e/24.jpg" data-mid="201544262" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/536/i/c64a7f20f0183d1270d9d9de8727bceb225f1e7c9a2d5d33741348f9c0be835e/24.jpg" /> <img width="528" height="358" width_o="528" height_o="358" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/83a45f243c0e38a8a48cc9b85bcad3aff0b2e3e4947389eb88176a977f2599cf/22.jpg" data-mid="201544263" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/528/i/83a45f243c0e38a8a48cc9b85bcad3aff0b2e3e4947389eb88176a977f2599cf/22.jpg" /> <img width="537" height="355" width_o="537" height_o="355" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/137f57469093d4f6c211bfee13f0fd70b5806a019eef770e0f02565a01dd0c0f/09.jpg" data-mid="201544261" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/537/i/137f57469093d4f6c211bfee13f0fd70b5806a019eef770e0f02565a01dd0c0f/09.jpg" /> <img width="536" height="334" width_o="536" height_o="334" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b4b2af8717835b8892c8c1d3d2c6fadba95b23e080686333399fb2c998886269/23.jpg" data-mid="201544264" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/536/i/b4b2af8717835b8892c8c1d3d2c6fadba95b23e080686333399fb2c998886269/23.jpg" /> <img width="532" height="354" width_o="532" height_o="354" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/dcaf16baf823607862a5ae4b7b354865277858b9970bcf6693c57361898e3b16/20.jpg" data-mid="201544265" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/532/i/dcaf16baf823607862a5ae4b7b354865277858b9970bcf6693c57361898e3b16/20.jpg" /> <img width="529" height="359" width_o="529" height_o="359" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/518554c4eecded34ad373a133ec88b19949d51c473a6d05dfc355d71460b64ad/21.jpg" data-mid="201544266" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/529/i/518554c4eecded34ad373a133ec88b19949d51c473a6d05dfc355d71460b64ad/21.jpg" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; Wagashi designs vía National Diet Library Japan &nbsp; &nbsp; During the Edo Period, wagashi making became a design practice. Artists were developing wagashi inspired by literature, poetry and even flavors related to the seasons. To keep the production of wagashi consistent, illustrated design manuals were made. The strict adherence to these manuals and traditional methods of wagashi making is still employed in some confectionary shops today.&nbsp;Perhaps the most noteworthy of these businesses is Toraya, which serves traditional wagashi from its shops in 80 different locations around Japan and Paris. <img width="600" height="600" width_o="600" height_o="600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d69344abb1d4b504a7be66684d1249b199f503c14fb38800817afcb9395d2cc6/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast_03.png" data-mid="201544718" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/600/i/d69344abb1d4b504a7be66684d1249b199f503c14fb38800817afcb9395d2cc6/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast_03.png" /> <img width="600" height="600" width_o="600" height_o="600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9730a898d5ab62914d2fba2238b9f21bc8fa65dc69af1057c1f767409c2483ec/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast_02.png" data-mid="201544737" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/600/i/9730a898d5ab62914d2fba2238b9f21bc8fa65dc69af1057c1f767409c2483ec/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast_02.png" /> <img width="600" height="600" width_o="600" height_o="600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0b60f56a4a5fba6cde7734a270ba5c28f23961c99d879a5b2b4e985ba4760253/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast.png" data-mid="201544719" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/600/i/0b60f56a4a5fba6cde7734a270ba5c28f23961c99d879a5b2b4e985ba4760253/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast.png" /> <img width="600" height="600" width_o="600" height_o="600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0b374fd120db627cd276c47778235d28c8705b9274169f4741dcd9a88f702687/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast_04.png" data-mid="201544720" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/600/i/0b374fd120db627cd276c47778235d28c8705b9274169f4741dcd9a88f702687/Wagashi_Toraya_Notes_on_Toast_04.png" /> Wagashi from Toraya