PB&J Recipe (Not as simple as you think)

Most people probably believe making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a task easily mastered, requiring only hunger pangs and opposable thumbs. However, my long ago, first attempt at writing a recipe to correctly combine crushed nuts, squashed fruit and white bread resulted in tears, an empty stomach, and a lifelong distrust of rabbits. With the conviction I am not the only PB&J challenged individual, nut deprived, and hiding behind ham and Swiss on rye, I will share my PB&J expertise, gained from 30 more years of experience.

You will need only white bread, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jelly, a clean butter knife, a flat surface to work on, and a bit of determination to triumph over your PB&J project. Wonder bread may be the most popular, but any brand with "unbleached" as the first ingredient will do. Skippy peanut butter is my personal favorite, but use your own discretion, remaining aware of your gooeyness tolerance. The jelly is the most important ingredient. Choosing the perfect fruit spread will make or break your entire sandwich experience, so select your jelly wisely. Do not confuse jam, preserves, or marmalade for simple jelly. The secret to jelly is that there are no extras. If you discover a lump or a seed in your jarred fruit, you have grossly erred during your shopping expedition.

Assuming the sandwich making position (fingers clean and dry, feet firmly planted, mouth slightly watering), place your two slices of bread side by side on your clean, flat surface. Don't forget to open your jars by turning the covers counter clockwise and removing them. If this isn't your first use, you may need to put some muscle into opening your jelly. Don't worry. It is permissible to run your jar upside down under warm water to loosen the cover, but if you do this, make sure the cover is tightly sealed or all your jelly will slip right down your drain when the cover falls off.

Place your jars close to, but not on, your bread. Grasp the handle of your butter knife in whichever hand you are comfortable using for projects requiring dexterity, and hold your jelly jar firmly in the middle with your other hand to keep it from sliding to the floor. While dipping your knife into the jelly jar, gently tilt the knife toward you at a 45-degree angle, then holding it as level as you can, quickly transfer the jelly to one slice of your bread. You may spread the jelly onto the bread now, or if it appears inadequate to cover the entire slice of bread at least ¼ inch deep, keep dipping and transferring until you're satisfied with the amount. Don't be stingy. When you are pleased with the quantity of your jelly, and you've spread it at least semi-evenly to the edges of your bread, you're ready to dip your knife into the peanut butter. (There have been multiple, and heated debates over using one knife to dip into both jars. Unless a little jelly-tainted peanut butter clashing with your next peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich is a concern, live on the edge, and dip one knife into both jars.) Again, grasping your knife in the hand with the most dexterity, and holding your peanut butter jar firmly in the middle with your other hand, dip your knife into your peanut butter jar, and follow the same procedure that you did with the jelly. The peanut butter will feel heavier and stick to your knife better than your jelly did. Plop your scoop of peanut butter in the center of your second, empty piece of bread and carefully begin spreading it to the edges of your bread with your knife. If you press too hard, your peanut butter will rip a hole in your bread. This, though not catastrophic, will severely limit your ability to complete your next step. If a bread hole happens, don't fret. You may always fetch another piece of bread, and start over. Many beginners might use a whole loaf of bread before mastering this step. Once your peanut butter is spread, more or less evenly, to the edges of your second piece of bread, you're ready for the most important step.

This next step is where many amateurs make their worst mistake. Sliding your hand under your peanut butter covered piece of bread, with the peanut butter side facing up, quickly flip the peanut butter side down onto the upturned jelly side, together, so that the edges are square. This may take a bit of practice.

I labored over my first PB&J recipe for two hours. Sighing with pleasure, I handed it to the sandwich maker, sure mine would be the most perfect sandwich imaginable. My fifth grade teacher, who was not only a novice PB&J sandwich maker, but had apparently never eaten a sandwich in all her 50 years on earth, followed my directions to the letter. Because I had neglected to include this last, crucial step, things went horribly awry when she placed the peanut butter side up on top of my grape jelly laden slice of bread. I was heartbroken. Sniffling and embarrassed, I refused to eat this imperfect creation. Ever mindful of wasted food, she instructed me to break the sandwich into little pieces and put it into our classroom's pet rabbit cage. The rabbit, too, refused to eat the offending sandwich, but every ant in the building scurried to the feast. I picked up the sticky, ant-covered pieces of my disaster, for the longest 15 minutes of my life while my PB&J smeared classmates watched with interest. From that day on, peanut butter and jelly on white bread never tasted quite as sweet, but I'll happily admit to acquiring a taste for rabbit stew.