’Supper is cheese on toast’ are words I’ve utterred perhaps one too many times. Still I’ve yet to discover anything else to eat that offers so much at such little effort. A layer of hot, soft, cheesy sauce atop a slice of thick, buttered sourdough toasted until the topping blisters and the crusts are crisp and nearly scorched here and there. Sometimes I slip in a wafer-thin sliver of ham between the bread and the oozing topping. It’s food to heal the body, to comfort the soul and to muffle bad thoughts in these mad, deranged times.