Newfoundland Toutons / Breakfast Sandwich

If you grew up in Newfoundland, you don’t really need an explanation for toutons. You just know what they are. If you didn’t, they probably sound strange at first. Fried bread dough for breakfast? It doesn’t exactly scream modern food trends.

But toutons have been around forever, and there’s a reason for that.

At their core, toutons are simple. They’re made from leftover bread dough, fried slowly in a pan until golden on the outside and soft and chewy in the middle. Nothing fancy. No special shaping. Just dough, heat, and patience.

They came from practicality. When you were baking bread, there was almost always a bit of dough left over. Instead of wasting it, you fried it. That dough became breakfast. Or supper.

Or a snack. Depends on the day.

Growing up, toutons were usually served with butter and syrup, or molasses if that’s what you had. Sometimes jam. Sometimes just butter. They were filling, cheap, and comforting. And like most good food, they weren’t trying to be anything more than what they were.

How Toutons Are Traditionally Made

Traditionally, toutons come from bread dough, not a separate recipe. Usually a soft white bread dough, often enriched with milk and butter, but not always. Whatever dough was being used for bread that day was what became toutons.

Once the bread dough had its first rise, a small piece would be torn off. No measuring. No weighing. Just a chunk about the size of your palm. That piece would get flattened slightly, dropped into a pan with butter or fat, and cooked slowly.

And slowly matters here.

Toutons aren’t deep-fried. They’re pan-fried over medium to medium-low heat. Too hot and they burn before the inside cooks. Too cool and they turn greasy. You want them to puff slightly as they cook, developing a golden crust while staying soft inside.

They get flipped once, cooked until both sides are browned, then usually drained on paper towel. That’s it.

They’re best eaten right away. Still warm. Still soft.

How I Make Them Now

I still make toutons the same way, using the same Newfoundland-style white bread dough I grew up with. The dough itself matters less than the texture. You want something soft and slightly enriched. Lean doughs work, but you lose some tenderness.

Once the dough has risen and been punched down, I pinch off pieces about palm size. I don’t weigh them. I flatten them gently, just enough so they cook evenly.

I cook them in a non-stick pan over medium-low heat with butter and a splash of oil. Butter gives flavour. Oil keeps it from burning. I let them cook slowly until they puff and turn golden, then flip and do the same on the other side.

And I’ll be honest, I usually eat at least one plain. Butter. Syrup. Whatever’s around. That part hasn’t changed.

Turning Toutons Into a Sandwich

This part definitely isn’t traditional. Toutons are bread. Soft inside, crisp outside. They hold heat well. They soak up flavour. So turning them into a breakfast sandwich feels like a natural step, not some forced twist.

Instead of slicing one touton in half, I like to use two toutons. One on the bottom, one on top. If you’re not that hungry, slicing one works fine too, but two just feels right.

For the fillings, I keep it very Newfoundland.

Bacon is a must. Cook it how you like it, but I go crisp so it adds texture.

Bologna is non-negotiable. Thick-sliced, fried until the edges get a bit crispy and it takes on some colour. If there’s one thing that makes this feel like home, it’s that fried bologna.

Eggs come next. Fried in the same pan. I like the yolk a little runny so it spills into the bread, but that’s personal preference.

Cheese ties it all together. Nothing fancy. Whatever melts well.

The build is simple:Touton. Cheese. Fried bologna. Bacon. Egg. Another slice of cheese. Second touton on top.

Press it together gently and eat it while it’s still hot.

This sandwich works for the same reason toutons have always worked. It’s filling, comforting, and practical. It doesn’t rely on perfect technique or specialty ingredients. It’s built around what people had and what tasted good.

It’s also one of those foods that doesn’t care what time it is. Breakfast, brunch, late morning, whenever. If you’re hungry, it works.

And for me, that’s the point.

Toutons don’t need to be reinvented. Turning them into a sandwich doesn’t replace the traditional way they’re eaten. It just gives them another life. One that still feels familiar, just stacked a little higher.

If you grew up with toutons, you probably already understand that. And if you didn’t, this is a pretty good place to start.