JUST THINKING: Peanut butter freak

Just Thinking | Julie Stafford

I am a peanut butter freak. If I have my druthers, it’s Jif extra crunchy. But I’ll really eat most any kind.

And I’m pretty sure it’s genetic. My brothers are just as nuts about the stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stafford blood is part peanut butter.

For me, it all started with my dad. Every morning he’d shuffle out of bed, pour a cup of coffee and before grabbing his newspaper, scoop a heaping soup spoon full of the stuff. Then he’d spend the next 15 to 20 minutes savoring both the news of the day and his peanut butter.

It didn’t take long for me to establish the habit. At Girl Scout camp I learned about ants on a log and every now and then I’d dip sliced apples in peanut butter. My mom also packed peanut butter, mayo and lettuce sandwiches in my lunch, which today sound kind of gross — at least the mayo part.

Remember the commercial when one guy bonked into another and the first said angrily, “You got your peanut butter on my chocolate.” Then the second guy, all annoyed, said, “You got your chocolate in my peanut butter?” In the end, they ended up tasting the combination and — voila — Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups were born.

Well, that led to experimentation. I tried peanut butter and ice cream, peanut butter rolled in butterscotch chips, no bake cookies with peanut butter, sandwiches made with combinations like peanut butter and bacon and peanut butter and Colby cheese, the last of which was my oldest brother’s creation. Yum.

Some people don’t like peanut butter — in any form. I get it when it’s due to a food allergy. But I don’t understand it when someone doesn’t like peanut butter just because. It’s been around since 1890 when a guy created peanut paste so people with bad teeth would have something nutritious to eat.

I’m not really one of those people who want to visit manufacturing facilities where they make things like jelly beans or chocolate or even beer. But I would go to the world’s largest peanut butter plant where they make 250,000 jars a day.

So I guess what I’m saying is that you never have to worry about me getting mad that a little peanut butter got on my chocolate or a chunk of chocolate got in my peanut butter. I will be in heaven.

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