Something you may not know about me is that I am a supertaster. I have too many taste buds or something, and so my sense of taste is slightly heightened.
I know this sounds like a super power, but it is not–it is actually a weakness. Do not confuse this with having a refined palette. It’s actually the opposite: it means that most vegetables taste disgusting to me, rich foods are too rich, sweet foods are too sweet, bitter foods are too bitter. Fish oil makes me queasy, cilantro tastes like soap to me, and I can’t stand anything with artificial sweetener in it.
It took quite a lot of work for me to develop a taste for beer, wine, and coffee. I’m still working on tea. Hot is okay, good, even, but iced is disgusting. I remember very clearly the first time I tried my mom’s iced tea. I spat it out and pronounced that it tasted like day-old watered-down Coke.
Despite my shortcomings I strive to be an adventurous eater, and I very much enjoy Greek, Japanese, Vietnamese, Thai (as long as there’s no fish oil), and Indian foods. But my day-to-day eating habits are as boring as can be, and I often eat the exact same thing day after day.
One example of this boringness is peanut butter. It has long been a mainstay of my diet.
Peanut butter on toast is my favorite breakfast. I love the way the peanut butter melts and softens the toast, the way it drips over the edges if you don’t eat it fast enough. The drips often land on my clothes, which may be why you’ve noticed I smell slightly of peanut butter on occasion. That’s not my perfume; it’s my breakfast.
I believe peanut butter on toast to be the most superior breakfast possible: it offers carbs, sugars, and protein, everything one needs to start the day out on the right foot.
I went through a phase in college where I would buy only the low-calorie “peanut spread.” It was gross and did not taste like peanuts or peanut butter. I do not recommend it. I ate it only because I was on a mission to consume just barely enough calories to keep me alive. Luckily, I grew out of it.
Once, a roommate of mine said that the idea of peanut butter in the morning made her want to die. I didn’t understand this, but I thought it was hilarious, probably because it was clearly wrong. Peanut butter in the morning is amazing.
Sometimes I get adventurous and add bananas (another thing I love) or honey to the peanut butter toast, but the original is always my favorite.
Peanut butter is also very good on cinnamon raisin bread, and if you haven’t tried this combo yet, you should go do that right now.
From the TV show Ed, I heard of something called a peanut butter and bacon sandwich. I tried it, and it was actually very good, and you will like it too if you’re the kind of person who likes to dip your bacon in your syrup. But it’s not something one should eat all the time.
My dog, Rufus, also loves peanut butter. It is his favorite treat. Because of our mutual love of peanut butter, our one-human, one-animal household goes through a surprising amount of it.
Once I’ve scraped all of the peanut butter possible out of an empty can, I give it to him so he can lick it clean.
I take the same can and smear peanut butter on the bottom of it with the knife I used to peanut butter my toast when I leave for work every morning.
Rufus takes the can from my hand and goes to work trying to lick the peanut butter from the bottom of it. His method is quite impressive–he lies on the ground with a paw on top of the can to stabilize it and squeezes his nose through the opening, making all kinds of hilarious piggy sounds.
He has recently learned that I put the dirty knife in the sink after I give him his can, and he has figured out a way to stand up on his hind legs and get the peanut-buttered knife out from the bottom of the sink. Every evening when I come home from work, I find a butter knife lying on my living room floor, no trace of peanut butter to be found.
Rufus has an expansive vocabulary, and we’ve been working on adding “peanut butter” to it. He recognizes the word–when I speak it, his eyes dilate so much that all I see is black, and he begins prancing around, which is what he does when he’s excited.
I’ve tried to teach him the command “go get your peanut butter,” which involves him picking up his empty can and bringing it to me while I’m peanut buttering my toast to save me a few seconds right before I leave for work. We’ve achieved mixed results. Last weekend he performed it perfectly for Boyfriend, but he has failed to reproduce results since.
His love for peanut butter has grown to obsessive levels, and he has figured out how to get the lid off of a closed can of peanut butter. Much to my chagrin, he’s successfully done so three times in the last three weeks.
The first two times I accidentally left the can of peanut butter on the kitchen counter because I forgot to put it away in the pantry. The third time, which happened the day before yesterday, a worker had been inside my apartment and left the pantry door open. Rufus retrieved the peanut butter can from the bottom shelf, opened the lid, and licked the entire can clean.
Because of this, our rate of peanut butter cans consumed has accelerated even more lately.
My favorite cookie is something called a peanut butter blossom, which is a deliciously moist peanut butter cookie with a Hershey’s kiss pushed down into the center of it. Best Friend makes me a batch for my birthday every year.
My mom also makes very good peanut butter cookies, the classic kind with the fork crisscrosses pressed into the top.
“Crisscross” is a weird term, and I was surprised to learn just now that it is considered one word.
The last time I bought peanut butter at the grocery store, a man tried to hit on me by striking up a conversation over which was my favorite kind. I told him it was creamy. “Oh, it HAS to be creamy,” he said, which creeped me out, but also made me giggle.
My favorite brand of peanut butter is actually Walmart’s Great Value, but I also like Peter Pan because it tastes like Walmart’s Great Value.
It is a miracle that the peanut butter salmonella outbreak from a couple years back did not affect me. I take this to mean that God loves me and wants me to continue eating peanut butter for a very long time.