Peanut Butter Jelly Thoughts

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are not something I spend a lot of time thinking about. Uniquely American, they are the food of many an American childhood.To an average doughy midwestern schmuck like me, PB&J sandwiches were standard fare, like Kraft macaroni & cheese or SpaghettiOs. (I was more of a Beefaroni guy myself) To the children of immigrants, though, the sandwiches often represented a cultural divide or mark of otherness. Peanut butter doesn’t play as big a role in many other countries as it does in America

In fact, people in other parts of the world are dumbfounded by our attachment to these treats. Watch these Irish folks trying them (one guy had something nice to say, you’re OK fella) or these Norwegian kids who seem pretty freaked out by the prospect (but little dude digs the peanut butter, right on!) And that’s just pasty white people trying them–if peanut butter is used at all in many cultures, it’s often as an ingredient in a savory sauce, like Asian peanut sauces or African peanut stews.

I feel like I’m starting to turn this into an us vs them thing, and that’s not my intention. I just wanted to put this sandwich in context. To many Americans, myself included, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a symbol of our childhoods, the way the pebete is to many Argentineans. It’s not the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that makes the American, though; it’s the American that makes the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The other way around would just be weird.

Toasted vs Untoasted

I don’t eat too many PBJs these days. When I do, it’s usually a late night snack, eaten on toasted bread, with whatever kinds of peanut butter and jams we have available (i.e., whatever the kids haven’t already consumed), and I like it with an ice cold glass of milk. Some fancier restaurant style PBJs I’ve seen on menus take this a step further and pan-fry the sandwich like a grilled cheese, crisping up the bread and making the fillings into a molten oozing mess.

The classic PB&J though is made on untoasted white bread. It’s not meant to have textural challenges–it’s supposed to be a simple quick snack, eaten out of hand after school, before running off to kill a few hours before dinner and homework. Some parents will go so far as to remove the crusts from their kids’ PBJs. I am not one of those parents.

I’ll be making a lot of PBJs for this post. I’ll be using different breads, different spreads, creamy, crunch, jellies, jams, preserves, and marmalades. Two things I won’t be doing: I won’t be toasting the bread, despite my own preferences, because that isn’t really what this sandwich is about. And I will absolutely not be cutting off the crusts.

The One True Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

The only sandwich that I can think of that can be considered a “true” peanut butter and jelly sandwich is the classic, grape jelly with smooth peanut butter.

Listen, I don’t like it any better than you do. Grape jelly is the worst, and smooth peanut butter is boring. There are a few factors that contribute to me calling this the one true PB&J. One is that it truly is the sandwich of my childhood and that of many others. Another is that this sandwich is all about ease and speed of preparation–grape jelly is ubiquitous in America, and creamy peanut butter is much easier to spread than crunchy. This sandwich is so widespread in America that you can buy smooth peanut butter and grape jelly in the same jar in just about any grocery store around here.

The main reason though that I call this the one true Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich though is this: grape jelly is really the only thing used in these sandwiches that is actually called Jelly. Other spreads are called Jam, or Preserves, or Fruit Spread, or Marmalade, or even Butter (e.g. apple butter).

Quality is not required for success in America. We’ll often take the first thing presented to us, which makes the PB&J with grape jelly and creamy peanut butter the classic American sandwich.

The Runner Up

To continue the theme, slightly less ubiquitous (but still everpresent in American life) in the PB&J world are chunky peanut butter and strawberry preserves.

Chunky peanut butter is harder to spread than creamy, especially on squishy supermarket white bread. And as opposed to the uniformity of grape jelly, strawberry preserves have actual chunks of fruit in the jar. The texture of both of these make constructing a uniform sandwich impossible. Yet the strawberry preserves taste infinitely better than grape jelly (not to my sons Max and Ian though, who both preferred the grape when we shared out these sandwiches), even though my exploration of the jam sandwich about a year ago killed my enthusiasm for the product temporarily.

However, you’d be hard pressed to find a grocery store shelf without both these staples, or a suburban pantry for that matter. And recently, strawberry jelly has also been graced with its own version of the Goober Grape-style twofer.

Due to the better texture and flavor, and the fact that both these are almost always around, I’ll almost always reach for this combination when I have my rare late-night PB&J. (As previously mentioned, I’ll usually toast the bread though)

The Outlier

Raspberry jam is only slightly less common than grape jelly or strawberry preserves, and it makes a fine PB&J. However, most raspberry jams have tiny seeds that get stuck in your teeth. It’s not the good kind of additional texture, and makes this sandwich a bit more of a pain to eat, but the flavor is better than either grape or strawberry, at least to my mind. I’m told that seedless raspberry jams exist, but the jar in my house does not qualify.

The Fancy

So yes, there are many types of jellies, jams, and preserves, but there are also alternatives to peanut butter. So why don’t we use those more often? Because it wouldn’t be a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich? Well, it’s not really a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich when we use something other than jelly either, is it? Let’s not be pedantic about this whole thing.

Also, let’s use something a little bit better than squishy supermarket white bread this time around, yeah? For PB&J, I like this loaf of Honey White bread from a small chain of bakeries with a nearby location. It’s sturdy but soft, dense enough not to turn to ooze when the jelly soaks in but still light and airy enough to make good eating.

So let’s try something nutty!

When I asked one of the food-focused Facebook groups I’m in about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, one commenter lamented the fact that, despite the popularity of the Elvis sandwich, banana jelly wasn’t an actual thing.

It isn’t. Banana jam is, though.

This would be my new favorite PB&J sandwich if it wasn’t for the fact that this banana jam is so expensive. I paid nearly $12 for a 6oz jar and it did not last long. What memories we’ll have of it though! The jam uses vanilla beans in addition to the mashed bananas, and it’s just crazy good. Sweet, with squished pieces of actual banana, but an additional depth from the vanilla that makes it more than just an overpriced substitute for the real thing. I do recommend trying it, but watch out for the sticker shock!

Rose hip jam was also suggested by someone on Facebook. It has an odd texture to me, more opaque and candy-like than the fruit jams we tried. Cashew butter is quite mild, and easily overpowered, but lent itself nicely to the tartness of the rosehip jam.

Almond butter, on the other hand, is quite assertive and bitter. The pineapple apricot preserves were wonderful, with nice chunks of pineapple and plenty of apricot flesh, but with all their flavor they were steamrolled by the almond butter. Perhaps I should have switched these last 2 pairings.

This was my worst combination yet, and the one I’d been most excited about. I’m a big fan of kumquats, and when we’d tried the Trader Joe’s brand of sunflower seed butter I had enjoyed it quite a bit. I hoped these 2 oddballs would play nicely. However, this combination just didn’t work at all. The kumquat marmalade was better with regular peanut butter, and later I combined it with cashew butter on some French toast and it made a fantastic breakfast. Maybe I got a bad jar of the SunButter but while it smelled like I expected sunflower seed butter to, and the initial taste was fine, there was a lingering bitterness that fought any combination I tried.

The Inventive

When I asked that group of folks on Facebook about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches this month, one of the themes that came out of it was how to keep the jelly from soaking into the bread. One person suggested putting peanut butter on both slices of bread with the jelly between; however, that often leaves the jelly squishing out the sides. How to resolve this dilemma?

Another commenter had this genius idea. You start with a slice of bread.

On this slice of bread, you spread some peanut butter.

Put your jelly on a second slice of bread.

Then invert that slice of bread on top of the peanut butter and spread more jelly on top. You don’t even have to use the same kind of jelly.

Then get another slice of bread and spread peanut butter on it. Once again, you can change up the type of peanut butter you use.

Now put that slice on top, and voila!

OK, here’s a cross section.

Having the middle slice of bread gives the jelly something to soak into, while keeping peanut butter on the outside keeps your hands from getting too sticky and gives the sandwich some structure. At least, that’s the theory. When you stack the whole thing up like this, you’re gonna get some jelly squishing out of the bottom. Luckily, I had plenty of volunteers to help me finish this one.

The Point

I wish I knew. Peanut butter and jelly is a sticky subject. On the one hand, I can’t think of a single thing to say about it. On the other, I just wrote nearly 2000 words on it in short order. It’s a forest-for-the-trees kind of thing in our culture–we at the Tribunal may be “not particularly critical or informative” in the normal course of events, but when something has been such a big part of your life, it’s hard to get enough distance from it to get a good look and try to explain what it’s all about. It’s easy; it’s quick; it’s sweet and savory and portable and messy. Kids like it because of the sweetness of the jelly, and adults let them eat it all the time because we figure the peanut butter at least has some good nutrition in it. It’s just… there. Welcome to America, here’s your peanut butter and jelly sandwich.