Saturday, June 26, 2010

Bento #41: PB&J--Or Rather, AB&P


Hooray!  Faithful subjects, rejoice; the King is back at work!

Let Us say that a paycheck cannot come soon enough.  Your Faithful King?  Is broke.  It is a poor Kingdom lately.  An impoverished Kingdom.  A Kingdom of No Bizzles.  The flow has ceased; the lettuce has died; someone has moved Our cheese. 

We thought about petitioning the UN for aid--but then realized that We must lead by example--and fortune helps Those who help Themselves.  Therefore, We are now doing some freelance editing.  Lo, it is tedious.  Lo, it is time-consuming.  But King gotta get paid, son!  So We are now back to packing a lunch.  But be warned: Our lunches will not be extravagant until that flow starts to come in.  Prepare to see Poverty Lunches.

To wit: Exhibit A.  Here is an almond-butter and blackberry preserves sandwich.  Kingdom-made bread.  Alongside, We have half a nectarine, some blueberries, carrot sticks, and a container of the ubiquitous spicy peanut dip. 

You know, We find that so many sandwiches benefit from being made on pre-toasted bread.  A little warmth, a little more stability--brilliant!  It must be said, Our love of toast is undeniable.  Fresh, hot toast, with sweet butter and perhaps a little jam?  Marvelous!  Hot toast points dipped in the yolk of a sunny-side up egg?  Citizenry, take note: this is the way to your King's heart.  And many sandwiches benefit even if the device is not put to its use until several hours later.  For example, it's a rare egg sandwich--fried, egg salad, it's all the same--that isn't better on toast, even hours later.  Even something that relies on crispness in all its aspects--the hallowed BLT, all three of whose letters must be crisp and perfect--will generally keep, if properly toasted and not overburdened with mayo, for at least an hour or two.

However.  We somehow erred in the construction of this particular sandwich.  We have found in past encounters that making a PB&J with toast contains the wet innards, preventing the premature soaking of the bread and the oozing of the vital fluids.  Meanwhile, said fluids generally help the toast retain a freshness, a vitality.  This, however, was not the case here.  The toast somehow dehydrated the inner workings of the sandwich while not actually getting any moister itself, with the result that the sandwich was a bit cumbersome to the teeth.  And what's more, the edges were positively stale.  How?  We are mystified.  Perhaps the fault lies with the preserves, which definitely do not have the soothing wetness of, say, strawberry jam.  It's not the bread--this is the Kingdom's daily, gold-standard whole-wheat bread, moistened with oil and sweetened with molasses--which also have a humectant quality.

Clearly, more research is indicated.

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