Variety helps in search of PB&J zone

With a few exceptions, people’s tastes get more picky — no, refined — as they age.

I’m not one of the exceptions. I stopped eating Ramen noodles a short time after I learned how to do more than boil water. I understand pulp is part of fruits, but fruit juice is liquid and pulp doesn’t belong there. Good hot dogs, and freshly baked hot dog buns, are worth the extra couple dollars.

One taste has never, and will never, leave my palate. Whether you use an ampersand or just assume the “and” is baked into the abbreviation, few things are easier and better than a PBJ ... or a PB&J.

My favorite pop culture agrees:

• “Love peanut butter and jelly on wheat, wildin’ out, makin’ hot (stuff) to hot beats.” — Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest, “The Love.”

• “It’s textbook. I mean, look at the peanut butter to jelly ratio. There’s no crumbs. I didn’t get any peanut butter in the jelly jar, or vice versa. And I only used one knife.” — Detroit Pistons forward Blake Griffin, describing the PB&J that put him in “the zone” in a car commercial. Go YouTube it so you know what I’m talking about; I’ll wait.

I’ve spent most of the last few weeks searching for that zone. Out of a desire to have a simple snack each day and save a little bit of coin, my work kitchen (desk) stays loaded with a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread and a knife. The work refrigerator always has at least one jar of jelly.

Doing the math, it made a lot of sense. I buy large jars of peanut butter for $5, and they last about six weeks. Be it jelly, jam or preserves, that’s about $3 a jar that lasts a week. The loaf of bread is around $2.50 and a loaf lasts a week-and-a-half. Over the course of six weeks, I’m spending between $5 and $6 a week — or a little more than $1 per sandwich.

A PB&J isn’t the healthiest thing, but it’s still a better option than spending $3 on some deep-fried snack and every day I make one gets me a little closer to the zone.

This is what I know so far in search of the zone:

• I’m not a fan of crunchy. I think it’s a variant of that orange juice-pulp rule I have.

• You want something that’s not basic white bread, which feels like eating sugar, and Uncle Tom Wheat’s Organic Sandwich Ends, which feels like eating cardboard. I made up that product, while trying to reference every disgusting health brand I could.

• The jelly matters. Grape and strawberry are PB&J staples the same way figs were a staple for Newtons. They’re just fine, until you try literally any other fruit you can imagine. I may have my headstone read, “Kevin Wilson, devoted journalist and friend, raspberry will always be superior to strawberry.”

• Variety helps you find your zone. Raspberry’s good, peach is not. Cherry and plum and pomegranate ... we’ll see you in a few weeks.

If I ever get the startup money, I’m not against doing the Subway-style restaurant dedicated to PB&J, where you pay $3 for a basic sandwich and 50 cents per upgrade (banana, Hawaiian bread, hazelnut spread). I promise not to overcharge for milk.

I’m not sure what to call it ... I’m floating between “PB-JAY” or “The Zone.” You’ll know what I’m talking about.

Kevin Wilson is managing editor of The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him at: [email protected]