Love Is a Many‑Splendored Spread
A peanut butter love story
My love for peanut butter began so early that it feels less like a taste I acquired and more like a genetic trait I was born with. I’m part of the generation that was pretty much weaned on the stuff.
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Peanut butter was practically a food group, both a nutritious snack and a legitimate parenting strategy. Fussy child? Peanut butter to the rescue! Bored child? Same. Child suspiciously quiet in the next room? Also, peanut butter, but now smeared on the beagle, the wall, and, for good measure, the couch.
Some of my fondest memories are of my mother’s peanut butter cookies. They appeared on quiet afternoons when the weather prevented Mom from “urging” me into the backyard to play. They weren’t fancy, but they were perfect in the way childhood things often are. Made with Kraft® peanut butter, always the smooth variety. And NEVER marked with a crisscross fork pattern; one press of a moistened fork was enough.
Peanut butter followed me into adulthood. It became the thing I reached for during late‑night studying. It has been my emergency dinner; a spoonful straight from the jar has powered me through breakups, deadlines, and the need for something in my stomach after a night of partying. My tastes have morphed to include Nutella® (with a major shout-out to the Hilton Molino Stucky in Venice and their Nutella® bar!) and WOWBUTTER®, a soy-based spread that tastes surprisingly like the real thing.
Loving peanut butter isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s the through-line from the kid waiting for cookies to the adult who still believes in simple pleasures.
