I’ve got a few breakfasts that I cycle between. Eggo waffles. Fruit. Pancakes. Yoghurt. McMuffins. But sometimes I have peanut butter toast. We’re not talking anything fancy, just a thin layer of Jif on whatever sandwich bread we have in the kitchen.

By some measures peanut butter toast is the least exciting breakfast in the mix, but I really enjoy it. It’s super simple and quick to make, it’s decently healthy for an American breakfast, and most importantly, it makes me think of my grandma.

My grandma passed away 6 years ago, and it’s probably been 20 years since I’d had peanut butter toast with her for breakfast, but this was her thing. She liked having it for breakfast and I’d have it as well when my family stayed overnight with her. It wasn’t a big deal and it wasn’t the thing we were most excited about each visit, it was just something that happened. But every time I make peanut butter toast for myself, I think about her and I smile.

We often think of life highlights as The Big Stuff, or that we’ll be remembered for the exciting things we did with others, and I had those with my grandma as well, but for whatever reason, it’s peanut butter toast that always takes me back to those mornings in her kitchen as we chatted over breakfast.