Thread: PBJ & Me

Just a simple personal essay:



For a majority of my life I have eaten and enjoyed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. During the early ‘90s when I was a child the combination was always the same: white bread, smooth peanut butter and grape jelly. The grape jelly would always soak into the white bread a bit and the entire concoction would classically stick to the roof of my mouth. The 1990s version bespoke tradition and consistency. I estimate I carried at least three sandwiches per week in my lunch box during my budding elementary school career.

At the turn of the millennium the sandwich changed little from the base laid down in my first decade of life. However, I became fond of marmalade. The key is the rind, which lends a bitterness to delightfully balance the sweetness of the jelly; intoxicating and addictive. Sometime around the 3rd grade I no longer brought my lunch to school. I did branch out with a toasted version I enjoyed while watching television on Thursday mornings (I live in Saudi Arabia, where Friday is the Muslim’s Sabbath day and equivalent to a Sunday in the Western weekly calendar). The toasted version had a lot of merit and I adapted my recipe from my father’s version. My father enjoyed peanut butter on toast, but it had to be crunchy peanut butter. Somehow my father convinced my mother to purchase crunchy peanut butter. Then he convinced his children that crunchy was far superior to smooth. We never looked back and to this day I buy crunchy.

In September of 2007 I left home for prep school. I lived in a dormitory and ate my meals in the cafeteria provided for the boarders. The food was average, often boring. We spread rumors that our entire menu was fixed by foods purchased by government subsidies which were on the verge of rotting. One of the strange food policies of this cafeteria was that peanut butter, jelly, and bread were always available for the taking. Off to the side of the cafeteria was a long table with tubs of smooth peanut butter and grape jelly (back to the elementary school combination) and cheap white bread (square, dull slices). I liked the idea of this permanent comfort food laid out and on display at all the meals. However, I never once made a government surplus sandwich, nor did I see any other student partake. The peanut butter jelly sandwich became a staple item in my diet. It was the go-to food when the entrees were questionable. I once threw my sandwich in the Panini; that was quite enjoyable.

Recently I have developed a fondness for yet another version. Unfortunately, this version could only enchant my taste buds when I returned home for breaks. The currently preferred combination is crunchy peanut butter, lingonberry jam from IKEA, and $5.00 per loaf whole wheat sliced French bread, toasted. Good bread is ridiculously expensive but I cannot scrimp on the bread. It is all about the right taste now. I am back to the elementary school consumption rate of about three sandwiches per week. Because of the high calorie count I now think of these sandwiches as dessert and I will actually plan the day around eating one. I want plenty of time to enjoy the sandwich and because of the heaviness of the bread I need time to digest it. The lingonberry’s tarty flavor adds zest to my life and gives me a quick high. I am often remorseful after the sandwich high wears off but not enough to quit the habit. It is a habit, on my last day of spring break I checked the pantry to make sure I wasn’t running low. I am due for another fix.

The peanut butter jelly sandwich will always be a part of my life. Endless permutations and combinations might mean the recipe won’t remain in mint condition. That is fine. Today’s world is hurried and frantic. I’ve had people preach to me change is an endless window of opportunity, and I agree to some extent. But a little consistency is comforting amongst clutter and chaos, and that is exactly what my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches delivers. Who would have guessed a saccharine wad stuck to the roof of my mouth would be my personal confidant?

You see, this is the kind of stuff that nobody's writing anymore.

I salute you, Sir.

Crunchy is the superior version. The essay is very good. I noticed but one typo, which unfortunately is telling:

I checked the panty

I myself prefer rye bread for the covering and eschew grape in favor of strawberry.

I found the writing in this a little simple, but the fact that you've chosen to pursue the trivialities of PB&J impresses me. So maybe the writing suits the subject. Strangely enough, it all kept me reading -- maybe I was expecting some shocking ending but, no -- it was just about the PB&J, and liked that. I'd like to see more pieces like this. Thinking on it, I wouldn't call this piece simple, simply trivial (though I'm a fan of both)

Also, I kind of hate creamy peanut butter. I used to hate crunchy, but then I started out on the creamy and quickly decided that it wasn't for me. I'll take crunchy any day of the week. I will think of this piece next time I make anything with peanut butter and/or jelly -- very nice!


stephen

So I kind of see a bit of post-modern thought here in the relishing of the simplicity of PB&J. Beyond that, I see little more than an exercise in wiriting. It was well written, but I didn't find myself curious to read more than the first four lines. That's merely because I didn't find the topic to be very engaging.

I would be interested in reading something else you've written, any links? Thanks!

Thanks for the read, guys!

This is true writing. It is clean, clear, simple, direct, and strong. It communicates. It reaches us directly. Do not be misled by those who would have you blur your strong image by rubbing the grease of 'fine writing' over the lens.

Your typo indicates that your mind is not always on food. That's okay.

A personal note. I'm 70 -- or will be officially in a few weeks -- and keep marmalade and peanut butter in the fridge all the time.

Crunchy peanut butter was discovered in Meridian, Mississippi, USA, around 1932 or 1933 when a small peanut butter factory could not afford to repair its aging equipment so the peanut butter started coming out with little bits of peanut embedded. The old man who owned the factory was ready to give up, but his son went to the printer who made their labels and had a new label prepared announcing 'crunchy' peanut butter. People loved it, bought it, and the factory survived.

Garza - A big thank you for the read, the response, and the wonderful anecdote.

I switched to Nutella for a week this summer. This blasphemous choice was something like a weekend in Vegas.


Edit: My typo edit in the original post will not save. Wierd.