random thoughts – Day 1,833 – (Monday) – earworm supper

Food is one of my reliable go-to topics. I eat multiple times most days, so there is almost always something for me to babble on about, which is a relief when there isn’t anything substantive or more interesting happening. It’s a safe topic compared to religions, politics, or world events, unless I mention my love of anchovies, pineapple on pizza, or breakfast cereal with orange juice instead of milk. In those times, especially in real life, the oven mitts come off and people are ready to throw down. But usually, the stakes are pretty low and nobody’s knickers end up in a twist because I said I ate pineapple and black olives on a pizza.

Today, we have another food tale starring my supper. It’s a love story of sorts. My sister and her friend introduced me to my supper item when I was in high school and they were in junior high school, but we might have been younger. It was during our days of being latchkey kids, unattended for several hours every day after school until the parents got home from work.  

In our youth, we experimented in the kitchen, concocting disgusting combinations to be consumed on a dare. We fought and broke things, then came together to attempt repairs and a cover-up. Our weekday independence spilled over to weekends and we were fully able to feed ourselves as needed and start supper for Mom as needed when we got a call from her to start the Hamburger Helper or the Rice-a-Roni.

One day, Sis and one of her many friends were in our kitchen with the gas stove going. My older sister interrogation elicited the information that they were making grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It sounded completely gross to me, and back then, I was not one to hold back from torturing my siblings for sport, so I told them how revolting it sounded. Somehow, they harnessed their super-persuasive powers to convince/cajole/dare me to try it. As much as I hated having to admit it, they were right and it was delicious.

Grilled PB&J is now on the short-list for when I need something easy, comforting, quick, and delicious. I think of my sister every time I make one. She had the option to tell me to get lost and withhold the greatness of this particular fried sandwich, but she’s kind and generous and shared the delicacy with her supremely annoying older sister.

Yum!

It was gray, snowy, rainy, and icky today, and grilled PB&J exploded into my consciousness after work. The perfectly sized frying pan was called into service, and in a few minutes, dinner was ready. 

As an added bonus, while I was spreading the peanut butter onto the bread, I suddenly remembered the annoying song the Tennessee boyfriend and his young son used to spontaneously sing, usually in a moving car when I had no chance of escape – “Peanut Butter Jelly Time.” You’re welcome. Now we can all be miserable. If you don't know it, you are lucky, but it's available online.

As annoying as the earworm was, it was a mild distraction from the ever present, recently extra loud and high pitched tinnitus, which was a bonus. And it didn’t diminish the crispy bread, warm filling, and cozy deliciousness of the supper sandwich. Grilled PB&J for the win. Thank you Sis.