The Royal Indian Mounted Police turns his nose up at this delicacy but my sisters will all know how delicious it is. I recently discovered sunflower seed butter and days later in a quest for lunch I settled on a twist on the world renowned peanut-butter-and-pickles-on-crackers. Sunbutter and pickles on street tacos. (I do not know why these little tortillas are called tacos but I cannot question the packaging particularly in a grocery store that until recently had the hispanic, or Latin food aisle named “Spanish foods.” I have to admit I don’t know what exactly it ought to be but I know for sure it ain’t Spanish.)
This is not something I would EVER do. The peanut butter, in fact, I have only used for catching mice (About 6 last year and 2 so far this year—at the cottage not my house in case you were worrying). I even made a commitment to myself when I bought it that I would damn well not eat it. It’s a slippery slope because once I start I won’t stop. But well, it seems in these trying times comfort food is what’s called for and peanut butter and pickles…there is just nothing more comforting. Maybe a Valium but I don’t have any of those unfortunately.
I did manage to stop though. But that damn jar of peanut butter is in there gently calling my name every time I walk by. Jeez, maybe I need something stronger than Valium.
Well, it’s the Dillon Official Food of Skiing. Peanut butter and pickles on crackers. Theoretically it should be on soda crackers but Ritz will do. It’s been a long time since I’ve had peanut butter. And I think the last time was Whole Foods-ground-peanut peanut butter. Skippy tastes way too sweet to me. But I ate it. I’ll eat anything. Except anchovies. And I feel bad about that. Maybe once I have the munchies I can cozy up to them…the thought scares me.
This is the perfect ski food. Nutritious, delicious (no matter Jean’s opinion), satisfying, easy, clean up’s a breeze and, it’s deeply evocative of another time and place. My family, my father, skiing up north, staying in cheap, crappy places, driving for forty seven hundred hours to get to them, and beer. Back when I drank beer.
On further reflection today, having had crackers, peanut butter and pickles for dinner last night as I was too lazy to get up and go out, it works better with soda crackers. It also works better with beer as opposed to wine but since I had neither it didn’t matter.
Peanut butter and pickles. This is the perfect food. Seriously, I cannot have peanut butter in my house because the close proximity to pickles (which are ALWAYS in my house) would be my downfall. Among the remains in this apartment left behind by my sisters are, of course, peanut butter and pickles.
Not only is this the perfect food, it is the perfect ski food and is so evocative of our family ski outings it’s almost painful. And yet delicious.