Tag: peanut butter

  • That Wasn’t Mickey

    mouse

    A mouse worked its way in through a gap under the sink, where it feasted on garbage. So we went on the offensive. But the mouse was too clever.

    It eluded traps, but feasted on the peanut butter, honey, and cheese that served as bait. We’ve spent the evening trying to trap it, capture it, and evict it, which meant that we probably looked pretty comical as we poked around with mop handles and brooms. (Baguette was distracted by a series of Sesame Street episodes; Wicket spent much of the evening shut up in the bedroom, which she seems to have found comfortable but confusing.) And by “comical,” I mean that the only stereotype I did not fulfill was jumping onto a chair. Mr. Sandwich even said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you scream before.”

    After cornering it under the stove and attempting to chase it into the center of the room, we think it made its escape out the open door. Regardless, we moved the stove away from the wall and wound up dismantling it, just to be sure. If nothing else, the range and the areas beneath and behind it are much cleaner now.

    But mostly, we really hope the mouse is out now.

    Photo by Anifan, via Flickr.

  • The Peanut Gallery

    Peanuts

    I’m weird about peanuts. I know this.

    Cocktail peanuts? No. Won’t eat them. Won’t buy a package of mixed nuts that includes them.

    Chunky peanut butter? No. That’s peanut butter with cocktail peanuts.

    Creamy peanut butter? Yum. I will eat spoonfuls.

    Peanuts in the shell? Extra fun if you don’t shell them. I am serious. Just crunch on through that. My cousin got me started on it, saying it was a “family thing.” I have always wondered if she was putting me on, but it turns out that I do not care. I will teach Baguette to eat peanuts this way (once the doctor says we can try her on peanuts, that is). Then it will be a family thing.

    Photo by random_alias, via Flickr.

  • My Favorite Sandwich

    In a sitcom, this reveal would come in the series finale. And it would probably be a disappointment to many viewers, because of course the earlier episodes would have featured increasingly complex concoctions with discordant and occasionally obscure ingredients.

    When I started second grade, my mother said, “What do you want for lunch tomorrow?” I paused–because it had never before occurred to me that I might have a say in the matter–and replied, “I don’t care, as long as it’s not bologna.”

    Every morning in high school, my mother would say, “What do you want for lunch?” And every morning I would give her the same answer, which finally led me to say, “Peanut butter and jelly, and I’ll let you know when I’m tired of it.” (Yes, my mother made my lunch in high school. I think she felt guilty because I was up in the morning before she was, and her vision of the “perfect mother” was someone who was up early and made her kids’ lunches, even if they were old enough to manage that themselves. Hopefully we can all get past this shocking revelation.)

    PB&J and “not bologna” are still very high on my list. But my real favorite sandwich can be traced back to a trip to the UK that we made when I was 10. In the course of traveling through England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland, we had a few high teas. At one of those teas, I discovered a wonder: the tomato sandwich.

    This is a delightfully simple sandwich: sliced tomato between two slices of bread that have been brushed with mayonnaise. (Do not tell me that mayonnaise is “gross.” I’m telling you what I like, not making you eat it.) I’m sure that at the long-ago teas, the sandwiches were made with white bread. We don’t have white bread, so I make mine on Roman Meal. To a lot of people I know, that’s practically white bread. For the mayonnaise, I used Best (Hellman’s to you East Coast readers). For the tomatoes?

    Ah, that’s where the magic comes in. The tomatoes are from our garden, which was dug, planted, and harvested by Mr. Sandwich. Last year the raccoons got all of the tomatoes (or, at least, part of each tomato), but this year he’s actually been able to find some that are both ripe and untouched by vermin hands.

    So last night I sliced up the tomato, put it on the mayonnaise-y bread, sprinkled just a little salt on it, and ate. Delicious.