spoon me

Hey hey hey,
About a decade ago in one of the very first seasons of survivor (back when I watched TV), I recall a challenge that was insane and ridiculously grueling (something over water- hanging upside down or some shit) - anyways, the prize that the tribes were battling for, was a food item from back home in the states. Now although I have never been starving in the jungle myself,  I can easily imagine that when you are pretty much wasting away and have resorted to eating bugs and rotisserie rodents, (next to eating a cast mate), risking death for a jar of peanut butter is the only thing that makes any real sense. I remember watching the winner of the challenge shovel hand scoops of peanut butter in his mouth, eyes rolling back and looking a little like a near death experience or sexual climax or BOTH was occurring.
I can so relate to that feeling. I love me some peanut butter, like really really really love it, for me, it's a cure-less illness....
If a gun was suddenly jammed to my temple and I was asked "what can't you live without?" - sorry kids, I would say immediately, without reservation or hesitation, the creamy Peter Pan...If I were packing up for my trip to solitude island, in the backpack with the ipod and my copy of Khalil Gibran's "The Prophet", would go the peanut butter, and not a jar either, the big ass tub from Sam's Club...
My love affair with creamy, peanutty perfection began as a child, in my friend Tanya Cullen's house where the PB&J was a regular occurrence and during the summer months I ate lunch at her house quite frequently. I was an only child until I was 18, Tanya however was the oldest of like a million little brothers, her mother was in a constant state of pregnancy throughout my entire childhood, no seriously, she was...Noon to One p.m. in the Cullen household was more like entertainment/education hour than lunch, in hindsight I should have paid more attention and joined the convent straight out of high school....Tanya's Mom Kathy, made lunch assembly line style on the kitchen counter that stretched out like a highway. She lined up two endless rows of wonder bread and with a baby hanging on her hip, (literally balancing for dear life on her very pregnant belly), she would slap peanut butter and jelly down in ginormous blobs of goodness. Then with the backside of a big wooden spoon, she would go back down the line again smoothing everything like a Zamboni. The great thing about her technique was that it was completely sloppy and even sloppier on days when the baby was fussing or she was just plain on the verge of a breakdown. Her slop was our glory.
I remember her so well, dark hair falling loosely from a pony tail, sweat on her brow, pale and pasty, always looking like she could use a carton of cigarettes and a liter of Jack Daniels, it's truly amazing she survived her life....Stressed out Kathy Cullen's sandwiches were the best part of my summer days and trained my taste buds to identify peanut butter as comfort. To this day, as a forty year old woman, peanut butter = my #1 comfort food....
As I grew into a young woman I kept up the PB&J trend, most notably during my second pregnancy with my son Kevin. For nine long months, at 12:15 on the dot, I would eat one sandwich with plain lays potato chips, one banana, a glass of milk and two oreo's. Pregnant lunch became very ritualistic for me, from the split top brand wheat bread to the number of licks to annihilate the cream filling of my cookies. Crazy... My fav peanut butter of choice has always been Peter Pan, although I'll do any and all. I definitely do not discriminate based on labels, if it says PEANUT and BUTTER it goes in the pie hole, nuff said....
Now a days I like my peanut butter first thing in the morning on perfectly toasted whole wheat bread. I love it warm and melty, and if I so choose to layer it with nutella, I get especially excited when it swirls together like a tie dye t-shirt, MMMMmmmmm GOOD, pretty on the eyes and great on the tongue too. Chocolate, hazelnut and peanut butter....Can I hear an AMEN????
And so, as I pause from writing this blog to pour my glass of red and put together my spinach salad as the dinner hour approaches, I am salivating for none of what I have before me.... Instead I find Peter is taunting me from the cabinet. Think I'll just go grab a spoon and show him who's boss. After all, it's best solo and straight out the jar to the lips...Really, why waste time on the bread???