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The Toastie Times
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  • Rachel Britton
  • Chloe Mckenna

The Toastie Times

A tale about 2 gals and their sidekicks searching for the best toastie in town. Reviews written with assistance of AI Read more
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    The Toastie Times

    The Birthday Bout

    September 10 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C

    They say legends are born in the outback. But on this particular day, one returned from it — sun-kissed, celebratory, and armed with a sandwich press. In honour of Toastie Times’ half-birthday (yes, we celebrate halves here), Mum stepped into the ring with a homemade toastie that whispered, “I’ve seen things.”

    The table was dressed like it knew something we didn’t. Butter glistened to the very corners of the bread like a golden promise. Grill marks? Bold, unapologetic. Filling? Generous enough to make a deli blush. This wasn’t just lunch — it was a declaration.

    Now, not everyone was convinced. The toddler, ever the critic, opted for garden cuisine — a rogue leaf here, a suspicious pebble there. Was she unimpressed? Or simply pacing herself for the cake she’d clocked earlier in the kitchen? We may never know. But her silence spoke volumes.

    🧂 The Verdict: A Toastie Worth Toasting

    • Seasoning: Confident. Not overbearing. Like a well-timed compliment.
    • Filling: Plentiful. A structural marvel. No sad corners.
    • Texture: Crunchy perimeter, soft heart. Like a good rom-com.

    This toastie didn’t just feed us — it reminded us that sometimes, the best bites come from home, from heart, and from someone who’s willing to butter all the way to the edge.    Read more

  • The Toastie Times

    Cafe 63 Willows

    September 3 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C

    If a sandwich could tell a story, this one would be a family saga. We ventured to Café 63 at The Willows in hopes of redemption after our underwhelming Castletown experience.

    First, the good news: the filling. Generous layers of ham, cheese, and tomato gave the toastie some substance - noticeably more than its Castletown cousin. The fiery orange and red chilli garnish returned like a sequel character no one asked for, but at least it added consistency across the franchise.

    Now the bread. Dry. Unbuttered. A sad canvas that desperately needed some love.
    This time, however, we came prepared - margarine to the rescue. A little DIY intervention turned cardboard crust into something halfway respectable.

    Our toddler companion took matters into her own hands with a "deconstructed tasting menu" approach. She nibbled her way through the components, then decided the bread was really just a platform for condiments. Jam, marmalade, Vegemite, and honey were all liberally trialled. Let's just say the chefs at Café 63 won't be stealing her recipes any time soon.
    The staff? Friendly as ever. But did Café 63 redeem itself? Sadly, no. The Willows may have provided more filling, but the overall experience still left us with that dry-bread déjà vu.
    Verdict: Better than Castletown, but only just. If you come, bring your own butter — or a toddler with a wild imagination.    Read more

  • The Toastie Times

    Cafe 63

    August 27 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C

    You know that feeling when you bite into a toastie expecting a warm, cheesy embrace—and instead get ghosted by the filling? That’s the Cafe 63 toastie experience in a nutshell.

    On paper, it had potential: ham, cheese, multigrain bread, and a price tag that didn’t make our wallets cry. At just $7, it felt like a steal.

    It began with the bread. The bread was multigrain by default—which I personally vibe with—but it’s a bold move to assume everyone wants their toastie to double as a fiber supplement. And speaking of bold moves: no butter. Not on the outside. Not on the inside. Not even a whisper of it. Just dry, toasted ambition.

    The filling—or lack thereof, was so minimal, I checked twice to make sure I hadn’t accidentally ordered “air between bread.” The ham seemed to have been fried beforehand, which gave it a slightly crispy edge. The cheese—thankfully—was melty and gooey… on one side.

    And then there was the side: a slice of orange and a chilli. Unique? Absolutely. Useful? Still processing.

    So yes, $7 is a great price. But would we eat it again? Probably not. It’s the kind of meal that makes you nostalgic for the toasties of your childhood—oozy, buttery, and unapologetically indulgent.

    Final verdict: Not a disaster, but definitely not a triumph. More “meh” than memorable.    Read more

  • The Toastie Times

    Ham, Cheese & Tomato Toastie – McDonald’

    August 17 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 27 °C

    I recently embarked on a culinary adventure at the McCafé inside McDonald’s Ayr, where I met my midday companion: the Ham, Cheese & Tomato Toastie.

    First impressions were promising. The bread arrived dressed up like it was heading to a wedding – golden, well-pressed, and with that “I’m fancier than I need to be” air about it. Wrapped neatly in paper inside a paper bag, it felt like unwrapping a present that whispered, “This could be good… or just slightly warm bread.”

    Now, the taste test. The bread, while crisp and noble-looking, revealed a tragic flaw: not a trace of butter on the outside. Toastie law dictates buttery exteriors, but this one chose to live dangerously dry. Inside, the ham and tomato held their own, looking fresh and respectable, but the cheese… oh, the cheese. Or should I say, the unmelted disappointment. Instead of oozing, it sat there politely like someone who turned up to the party but refused to dance.

    The setting didn’t help either. McCafé, usually the calm cousin of the McDonald’s family, was more like a call centre with the relentless beeping of order screens. Every five seconds I was reminded that someone else’s McFlurry or hash brown was ready. Let’s just say, it was not a toastie for mindfulness.

    Verdict:
    • Bread: 8/10 (fancy, golden, but unbuttered betrayal)
    • Ham & Tomato: 7/10 (solid effort, respectable quality)
    • Cheese: 2/10 (melt already, for the love of dairy)
    • Atmosphere: 3/10 (a symphony of beeps)

    Overall: A toastie with potential, but in desperate need of butter therapy and a quieter stage.    Read more

  • The Toastie Times

    Townsville Toastie: A Crunchy Mirage Be

    August 16 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C

    Spotted it in the display window at Townsville Airport—a ham, cheese, and tomato toastie gleaming under fluorescent lights like it knew it was the best-looking snack in the terminal. Golden, crunchy, smug. I was sold.

    First bite? Crunch factor: elite. Whoever manned the sandwich press deserves a handshake. But then came the unraveling.

    One slice of tomato. Singular. Suspiciously central, like a garnish that wandered into the wrong genre. The ham was plentiful but so thin it felt like it had been ironed flat for aerodynamics. Cheese held it together like a weary diplomat, and seasoning? Surprisingly on point—someone back there respects salt.

    Only one side was buttered, though. A bold choice. Like wearing one sock to a job interview.

    I ate it very hot, in a rush to board. Burnt my tongue, lost all nuance. Was it delicious? Or was I just hungry and slightly panicked? Honestly, who knows. It was crunchy, it was warm, and it didn’t fall apart mid-run to Gate 4. That’s a win in airport terms.

    Would I eat it again? Probably. Would I trust it with my emotions? Absolutely not.    Read more

  • The Toastie Times

    BP Elliot springs

    August 13 in Australia ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C

    BP Elliot Springs Ham, Cheese & Tomato Toastie — A Roadside Romance

    Sometimes you pull into a service station for fuel, and sometimes you leave with your heart warmed and your tongue slightly singed. This was one of those days.

    I met my match in the glowing hotplate cabinet of BP Elliot Springs — a ham, cheese and tomato toasted sandwich. It came shyly wrapped in a greaseproof paper cocoon, tucked inside a humble paper bag, as if to say, “I’m nothing fancy.” But like all great country romances, it had hidden depths.

    First bite: molten. I may never feel the roof of my mouth again, but the burn was worth it. The butter had been applied with the kind of generosity that suggests the maker both knows and respects the art of the toastie. The bread was golden and crisp, whispering promises of flavour in every crumb.

    The cheese? Creamy… though if you asked me to identify its breed or vintage, I’d be stumped. Let’s just say it leaned more “service station chic” than “fromage artisanal.” But the balance was perfect — salty ham, sweet tomato, buttery bread. It needed no salt, no pepper, no intervention.

    By the time I reached the final bite, I realised this was less of a snack and more of a warm roadside hug — one that leaves a small smear of butter on your fingers and a bigger smear on your soul.

    ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆
    Lost a star for cheese provenance, but gained eternal respect for the butter.    Read more

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    July 9, 2025
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