Sunday, October 9, 2011

Improved Peanut Butter

One of these jars is not like the others...

Okay, none of these jars is remotely like the others. The first is real, genuine, creamy Skippy. The second is the cheap knock off product (Skkipy) made with extra oil and lots of nut chunks. The third is ostensibly from England, claims in three places to be Extra Super chunky and has a grand total of two nuts in it and an odd lack of oil. This makes it almost unspreadable.

They are all strange. They are all strange because they all taste totally different. They are all strange because they all cost the same amount. They are all strange because none of them is our usual brand.

Prince is happy to eat the real creamy Skippy. He's so happy to eat it, he has started declaring a preference for creamy over crunchy, much to my chagrin even if it was expected. Ever odder, though ... I'm happy to eat the creamy Skippy. I've never liked creamy peanut butter, but this is addictively good.

Prince is not happy to eat the others. The Skkipy is much too crunchy for him now and the Best-in is also declared to be "crunchy" when he means dry and hard.

Now, if the one is oily and the other is dry, why not combine them? I do. It's still too dry. So I actually POUR IN EXTRA OIL to the peanut butter. Not much, but some. I stir it up, and smear it on the bread, and he likes it. We all agree, the extra oil is a definite improvement. "Necessary," quothe the Joy, who is not a peanut butter fiend like us. "No, I'm going back to not liking peanut butter much, although I do like the Skippy."

This grand mix has a name my son gave it: Improved Peanut Butter. "Dad, is that improved?" he asks before I spread it. "Let me taste it." I ask him if it is improved enough. No, not yet, okay. More oil.... Is it improved enough now? "Yes!" He's gone back to eating it off the spoon.

Our stores have run out of the real peanut butter a couple times already -- largely our fault. We go through about 3 jars a week and Prince's peanut butter needs have been a staple not only of our dinner table, but of my economics classes. The day we bought the last Luka had was tragic because some other faculty saw me getting it and grabbed some out of my basket. "But, but, but that's all my son will eat!" I stammered. "I haven't had any," the other faculty protested, who could see plainly I was buying 5 jars. Oh and hey, another faculty other there, Watson's got peanut butter. Come get it from him. .... That was not a happy day.

So I am thankful for cheap knock offs and false friends from England who showed up after that day, without whom we might not be able to feed our son. This is his only source of protein and almost his only source of fat.