I was groping around blindly, looking for a small lid in the back of the third shelf of the kitchen cupboard, when a tall, skinny tin teddy bear came tumbling down onto the counter-top. Well, I ought to clean out my cupboards more since I’ve not seen that little shaker tin in ages. I probably have not eaten this cinnamon-sugar mixture since I gave up sweets in 2010. The container is a gizmo that you unscrew the top and it is a shaker. You swirl cinnamon and sugar together in the tin, then shake it over hot buttered toast or porridge. I opened it and it still smelled heavenly, so it became my “spread” for toast today. This treat hearkens back to my youth when my mom often made me cinnamon-sugar toast. Nothing was nicer than a piece of hot toast, with a smidge of butter topped with a heavy-handed shake of cinnamon sugar. If I close my eyes, I can see myself sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on cocoa with the aroma of cinnamon wafting up my nostrils. Those are great warm and fuzzy memories. I originally planned to entitle this post, “a loaf of bread, a cup of coffee and thou” but coffee is my shtick, not Buddy’s. But every day I do indeed break bread with my little paesano, albeit a friend with feathers. Buddy is a frisky, lively pet who never lacks for attention, and in fact thrives on being a spoiled boy, and he is indeed the center of attention in this house. Our daily ritual is me making him a piece of crispy, multi-grain toast. As you might remember from a prior post, bread is my downfall. It is Buddy’s downfall as well. I go several times a year to Westborn Market to buy this Superior Bakery rustic bread, a piddling little loaf, which, by the time you take out the “heels”, the misshapen pieces or the slices with gimungous holes which might snag in the toaster, leaves us with about a dozen good-sized slices to toast per loaf. I end up eating the bite-sized odds-and-ends of bread spread with peanut butter. But, Buddy and I share and share alike. During the week, after the workday is done, we split our slice of toast; his is twisted and positioned between the cage bars and onto the perch whereupon he attacks it with a vengeance. But first, I must shield this treat with my fingers while I blow on the toast to cool it so Buddy does not burn his mouth. Sometimes he flaps his wings or chatters angrily because it takes me too long to cool it off. Patience mon petit, patience! The other 3/4s left of the slice is designated as mine and I reheat it and slap a thin slice of Swiss cheese onto the warm crispy bread. Mmm. Every November I load in a large supply of “Buddy bread” for the Winter, and needless to say, the many mini loaves take up most of the freezer. On weekends, when I have more time to indulge, I usually enjoy my portion with orange marmalade and a large steaming mug of Hills Bros. English Toffee Cappuccino … a stately British combo, but for me it is simple, but stupendous.