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I am trying to make up with the jar of almond butter in the refrigerator. I am no
expert on almond butter behavior, but I am sure its enthusiasm for me has been at
an all time low. It's my fault really. Of course it's my fault. I have been dallying with
the peanut butter.
They say that almond butter is the more healthy of the two. They, meaning I don't
know who. But there are more than a few theys with credentials who will tell you
that. So, in an effort at self-improvement, I have for years favored it over the more
traditional, ordinary butter of the peanut - the people's snack; and when mated
with jelly, the staple of sack lunches everywhere. We keep jars of both in the
For years now I have resisted the appeal of the common trollop, peanut butter, and
instead went with the sophisticated almond butter, a choice based on evidence and
not on the heart. Until recently, that is, when I fell victim to my baser instincts and
had an affair with peanut butter. I spread her on toast, and took her on impulse,
chunk style. It was like coming home.
And I kept seeing her after that, and I am sure the almond butter wondered why I
didn't call anymore. Didn't we have a commitment? She has sat unused, shoved
around by the shuffling of the rest of the food in the refrigerator; first hidden
behind double stacked, styrofoam to-go boxes, then pushed to the back by the
crock pot filled with winter's first soup, finally coming to rest, lost, among the little
bags of pone-making flours on the top shelf. Teased or pitied by the other
groceries, I imagine.
I took her out just now and let her melt into a toasted piece of brown rice bread.
They are good friends, those two, and I think I showed them a good time. I know I
enjoyed it. It was like old times, like we'd never been apart.
What I have learned is that almond butter is a refined taste, whereas peanut butter
is all about lust. And both want what the other has. That's how nut butters are by
nature. You canít live with them, but you canít...you know the rest. Iím just sayiní.
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