Peanut butter and banana toast and I go back a long way. I’ve probably mentioned this before. Now, fifty years later, the slathered combo atop a crispy base holds carbolicious delight…and comfort. You’re probably nodding in agreement iffin you have bitten into such wonder.
When I was a punk in short sleeve sweatshirts bananas were a delicacy. They were not on the priority list. But every now and then they’d show up. Surprise! As long as my mom did her dedicated run to the day-old bread store there was hope. Margarine and a metal bucket of peanut butter, will travel.
But bananas. The rationed yellow boomerangs. When they arrived on scene they wooed me to drop my blankie and toss my pacifier. A new comfort for this creature. Maybe a rite of passage even.
For some reason, my mom thought 12 cents a pound was too much to sacrifice back then. I had no idea. When she doled out dinero it rarely was for Chiquita. Even the commercial jingle didn’t phase her. Remember…”I am a Chiquita banana and I’m here to say.” Could be she thought the peels too dangerous.
Bananas, bananas, bananas—go ahead, say bananas enough times and you’ll at least smirk at how silly it sounds. Try it in Spanish too. Platanos, platanos, platanos. Actually, just about any word you say over and over becomes silly.
But anyway, why I’m a blathering on about a squishy substance sheathed in a sleek yellow holster?
It’s emotional attachment.
It’s intellectually stimulating.
Are you for real?
Okay, this is why…
“Yes, we have no bananas, we have no bananas today.”
Oh, how you conjure up memories! I, too, have a fondness for PB&B on toast, never a sandwich (untoasted bread), and delight in my occasional indulgence. I just never quite got the similar fascination with PB & Miracle Whip (never mayonnaise) sandwiches, which the thought still makes me gag. But I digress…..
Peanut butter and mayo… I used to like that.
Yours might be PB&B but my go to is Ants on a Log. That’s peanut butter on celery topped with a row of raisins.
Now that sounds good!