Sometimes small changes are a big deal.
Today I’d like to introduce you, unprompted, to Justin’s Chocolate Peanut Butter.
We’re talking breakfast. In China they eat rou bao, and congee. Japan, miso soup. Sweden, a fishy paste squeezed from tubes, cracker bread, cheese, yogurt, fruit. Perhaps the world divides neatly into pastry and non-pastry breakfasters?
These days, although I may come from a savory tradition – herring, oatmeal, sausages – I eat breakfast like an average Anglo-American. Sweet, and Wheat.
When we were little, in the 60s, mom served us Froot Loops, toast from bread in bags, bacon, and orange juice. Because Mom was enormously competent and under the spell of 1960s motherhood mythologies, we ate like this every single day. On placemats, with table settings and napkins.
I don’t remember boarding school mornings. Probably because of boarding school nights. Come college, I turned to Dannon yogurt, coffee flavor. Every single day.
One year I started eating toast instead. And tea. And there I stuck, for veritable decades. Decades of Trader Joe’s Honey Whole wheat toast and English Breakfast.
The thing is, I embrace change elsewhere. Never reread a book, or want to see a movie twice. Hanker over future imaginary trips to Turkey and Iceland and Africa. Breakfast is possibly my comfort object, my Velveteen Rabbit, my thumb. It’s a reasonable strategy, finding a mundane anchor that allows for adventures of greater scope.
When I divorced I switched to La Brea Whole Grain bread. Too many memories in the taste of honey. And then, shazam, a few months ago, Justin’s Chocolate Peanut Butter. More sugar, more salt, more protein. I can’t say I feel like a new person. Not quite. But tastes that linger in your mouth may make up more of your self than do intermittent voyages. I have to admit, I find being human rather complex. The little things like peanut butter help make sense of those larger and more complicated bits.
Do you eat sweet? Savory? Do we agree that the more sanctioned chocolate the better? Have a wonderful weekend.
*By the way, no one came even close to paying me for this. Justin has never contacted me and almost certainly does not know I exist.