Dear Avocado Toast Lover,

I never understood the avocado toast craze. I am very familiar with the taste of bread. I am very familiar with the taste of avocado. And don't get me wrong, both things separately I know to be pretty okay. But together? Could they really be something great?

The first hint that started to make me think that avocado on toast could taste great was its coverage on social media. The food-porn industry went nuts over the aesthetic of the bright green, quarter-circle slices carefully placed atop golden brown triangles of toast. Feeds everywhere were graced with the presence of this nectar-like food that was consumed by all who revered themselves as gods as they feasted on the finest cuisine. Avocado toast became fan-favorites at your favorite posh food place. It seemed that this toast, this sexy, colorful brunch food transcended the social normative separation of hipsters and the mainstream. This food was bringing people from such different walks of life together.

So naturally I wondered, might I, lowly Maggi from Monmouth Beach, possibly partake in this Eucharistic consumption of green on golden brown? Would Avocado Toast (and humanity) accept me as their humble servant? I had this insatiable hunger that I new could only be filled with The Divine, so I set out to discover the nirvana that is Avocado Toast.

I carefully sliced the avocado, as I had seen in so many pictures. I searched a loaf of freshly bought bread to find the softest slice and then put it into the toaster, pressing the "cancel" button every so often to be sure the bread was toasting evenly and never got burned.

When the toaster finally popped, I removed the newly born toast and placed it on the plate. Then, as if fondling delicate rose petals, I released the avocado slices from their restrictive skin and put them in their rightful place atop the toast.

Almost as if in a trance induced by Avocado Toast gods, my fingers obtained and released a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of pepper onto the green flesh. The gods seemed pleased with my sacrifice and the masterpiece was finally ready for consumption. As I bit into the toast, I knew it would change my life.

What happened next was enlightening. Upon the First Holy Chew and Swallow, I actually gagged. The concoction tasted like something my grandmother's assisted living nurse chewed up and spit out so she could eat without her dentures. It was bland mush. Avocado Toast is literally the worst thing to have ever passed my lips and attacked my taste buds, and that's coming from a girl who once drank a mixture of milk, ketchup, hot sauce, mustard, salt, pepper and sugar on a dare.

I tried to redeem the honor of the toast (and the integrity of my fellow humans who have been duped by the false idol) by dressing it with more salt and pepper, oregano, crushed red pepper, and a bit of olive oil, but alas, nothing could save the fallen angel that is Avocado Toast. I trashed the whole thing and pledged my loyalty to a different kind of Toast: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

So, AT lovers. What is all the hype?

Best Wishes For You and Your Taste Buds!

Sincerely,

Maggi