SEEKONK, Mass. For Bernadette Worson, a 34-year-old mother of two, the projected “megastorm” that was supposed to hit New England earlier this week required an all-hands-on-deck response. “My father was snowed in during the blizzard of ’78,” she recalls with a lump in her throat. “He ran out of beer, the liquor stores were closed, and he nearly died of boredom watching news clips of people skiing to work.”
So Sunday afternoon found her at the end of a long line at Donaldson’s, her local grocery store. “I had to stock up on milk, bread and eggs,” she said as she surveyed the seven loaves of Wonder Bread on her kitchen table. “I don’t know why, but that’s what everybody does around here when it starts to snow.”
But the anticipated “Nor’easter”–so-called because the winds that fuel it come from the northeast and blow out the “t” and “h” on the way–turned into a dud. “Climate isn’t weather,” notes Herman Wyskopf, professor of environmental science at Central Massachusetts State College. “So even though we can’t accurately predict a snow storm two days out, we should still be able to forecast changes in climate that will continue to produce grant moneys half a century from now.”
As a result, many Massachusetts residents are left like Worson with milk, bread and eggs that they need to consume before the groceries spoil. The only solution? “French toast–and lots of it,” says Seekonk Chamber of Commerce spokesman Eleanor Quantil.
And so this morning finds the Worson children and others like them around town having French toast for breakfast for the third day in a row, after French toast croquettes for dinner last night and peanut and butter and jelly and French toast sandwiches for lunch yesterday.
“A little French toast never hurt anyone,” says Ethel Marion, a nutritionist in the Seekonk school system. “A lot of French toast will make you sick, but so will an overdose of heroin, there’s no big mystery to it.”
“French toast” is a dish made from sliced bread soaked in beaten eggs and milk, then pan-fried. It is also known as “eggy bread,” “Bombay toast,” “gypsy toast,” and “poor knights of Windsor,” primarily by people who dream of being contestants on “Jeopardy” and other common bores. It was sent to America by a grateful French nation after World War II, when the rump state of “Vichy France” collaborated with Nazi Germany to force expensive Vichy water on Parisian diners who would have been perfectly happy with free tap water.
Excessive amounts of French toast can cause problems for local sewage systems, as the starchy bread clogs pipes and pumps, producing discharges from storm drains. “There’s only one sure cure,” says Ed Norton IV, head of the Water and Sewer Department here. “And that’s lots of hot coffee.”
I’d prefer egg sandwiches and a glass of Nesquick, which I’m pretty sure is what my mom served during the Blizzard of 78.