He looked over at Lyra, but she was still enjoying her meal.  The nurse had left, so he probably didn’t have to worry too much about table manners.  He stuck a finger in the presumed butter; it tasted exactly like he expected.  A little saltier than the margarine he usually bought, but otherwise fairly normal.  The ‘sugar’ sprinkles, on the other hand—just like before, they didn’t dissolve in his mouth at all, nor were they sweet.  It was like eating colored sand.  He pushed them aside and began buttering his toast, an extremely difficult process, since he could only use his left hand.  Even though the butter had been softened—or else wasn’t refrigerated at all—he still slid the toast all over his plate before finally giving up on neatness and settling for random lumps of butter here and there.  As with the sandwich he’d eaten earlier, the bread was very grainy and dense.