Sunday, February 13, 2011

The King Was Bananas.

Happy Sunday all.
                Today I had planned to make a loaf of rye bread for the first time and document the outcome, but the productive Sunday I had envisioned quickly became a leisurely one, so instead I decided to indulge in my past, and make a worse for me version of a childhood treat.
                On the rare occasions in my childhood that my mother would have the day off, and would drive herself and I into downtown Fort Worth, Texas to enjoy lunch with my father we would go to a sandwich shop where my mother would order for me a peanut butter and banana on white bread, with the extra treat of a little bit of honey to add sweetness. Overall this was a not so indulgent meal, for most of the ingredients are healthy in moderation. Feeling a little homesick, yearning for a simpler time in my life, and coming to the realization that I had all the ingredients, I put myself to task to have one for lunch in the near future.
                Somewhere along the way though, a devil discovered this kernel of desire, and added a twist. This devil, I’m sure, was in Memphis in the late 70’s whispering into the ear of Elvis, saying take this nice mostly healthy treat and pan fry that sandwich into new realms of unhealthiness, adding 2 tablespoons of fat to the mix.
                Now, the recipe is quite simple, you’ll need two slices of bread (I had some light wheat from the DeKalb Farmers Market), some creamy peanut butter,  a small banana, honey, and a fair amount of butter or margarine (I used the Splendid Tables recipe for reference).  Simply mash the banana (as opposed to my childhood’s version that used sliced bananas) and spread evenly over a layer PB and  just a touch of honey, closing the bread to close the face. 
Heat your skillet to about medium high, add your fat, and allow to melt. Before the butter starts to burn add the sandwich, grilling/pan frying on both sides for a minute or two to allow toasting and butter infusion of the bread.  I believe the use of firmer bread for the sandwich is a good choice; softer breads I worry would be prone to falling apart.
Cooking the sandwich to the point at which the filling is slightly beginning to ooze out of the bread casing, I take my first bite, and am hit first with the best textured mouth feel I can recall experiencing. The bread has a nice slight crunch to it, that gives way to warm banana and peanut butter, which slides easily across my tongue. The savory butter and bread mingles with the slightly sweet banana and peanut butter mélange, highlighted with the slight glaze of honey.
 “I want another sandwich,” I think to myself before I’ve completed swallowing even the first bite.
Because of the mass of the banana, the bread, and the adhesion of honey and peanut goop to ones ribs, though, this desire is quickly smashed before I’m past the first half of my sandwich, which I believe is a good thing. Having so much desire for something so perfectly easy and wonderful will lead to self destruction easily. Elvis could apparently put 15 of these away at a time, but I will try to keep these a once in blue moon kind of treat.

Pope Crisco 

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