The Peanut Butter Kid

and my weird British food...

In 1966 I was in first grade at Beachy Elementary in Arleta, Ca. My mom would pack me the most delicious (or so I thought) lunches. I would dutifully eat all my lunch, observing what the other kids were eating, and realized quickly that no one ate food like me! I honestly can’t remember what I had for a side-dish, like chips or fruit, but I will always remember my banana mashed sandwiches on French bread with butter and cucumber sandwiches the same. By third grade I couldn’t take it anymore. After much observation of the American school lunch, I asked if I could trade my sandwich for this kid’s slice of cafeteria cake. Remember those sheet cakes with the frosting, cut into squares? How could it be that other kids got to buy this lunch while I ate weird sandwiches? At least that’s what I was beginning to think. I remember the kid laughing and from that point on I would sit on a planter and eat by myself contemplating my lunch situation… when finally a kid came along with an interesting sandwich comprised of a brown spread with jelly. Never one to give up, I asked what it was and remember saying “peanut butter” in my head until I got home that day. This would definitely help me fit in.

I begged my mom to buy some of this stuff and when she finally did I approached the sandwich making situation as if it was going to be the most incredible saving grace of my life. When she stepped outside to get the clothes off the line, I got the step stool out, the French bread, the soft butter on the counter, the marmalade from the frig, and that hopeful jar of peanut butter. I had no clue what I was doing but realized I needed to layer the ingredients and being that I was British, I figured butter should probably be part of the layers… and being that I was British, I figured the American version was rather flimsy and thin and I’d amp it up.

Note: If you’re British your bread is sliced very thick.

By the time I put together my 5” tall sandwich, picked it up, leaned over the sink and happily took a bite (as hard as that was), I felt sick to my stomach. I quickly put everything away, stuffed my sandwich in the trash, and hid the peanut butter in the very back of the food cupboard and never talked about peanut butter…ever again.

Mom didn’t notice the jar until about a year later! Annoyed with me for wasting, I think she rattled off how much better her sandwiches were anyways.

It wasn’t until I was 19 years old, on a ski trip, that I felt like I had finally tasted this heavenly treat in a positive way. My co-worker had packed peanut butter and “jam” sandwiches in her backpack. I was new to skiing as we both worked for a ski travel desk. She was from Chicago and like a seasoned peanut butter sandwich connoisseur, with a Chicago accent, she said “it’s Knott’s Boysenberry Jam and wheat bread. Makes all the difference.” Oh.., I thought. She handed me one in a baggie.

I think the sky was bluer and the snow was whiter that day. A beginner at skiing, I still remember that sandwich over my extremely painful feet. I’ve never looked back.

After eating one almost every day since, my personal favorite, in a calmed-down British fashion, is:

*Alfaros Artesano Bread (white) or extremely soft, yet slightly thick fresh bread with a soft crust.

*Skippy Natural Peanut Butter (Creamy)

*Smuckers Plum Jam (Amazon)

Lay it on a little thick. Don’t cut it. Just pull it apart and enjoy.

You’re welcome.

Next up: How I discovered plum jam and the importance of friendship…