The Weird Sandwiches of Youth
In second grade, my favorite sandwich was a peanut butter and cherry: peanut butter spread with sliced maraschinos. I think that my dad might have made it up when my mom was out one day, and for an entire year, that is all I wanted to eat. And then, just when I was starting to glow from the inside out, I tired of it.
My husband, at unpredictable intervals, acts like it is acceptable to eat peanut butter and cheese sandwiches. I have never seen him do it, but regularly he’ll stroll into the living room late at night claiming that he just ate one. It is possible that he does this to push my buttons. He has also mentioned putting strawberry jam into an American cheese omelette. He is quite possibly a gastronomic enemy of state: not to be trusted.
Our son’s favorite sandwich is called a “prune quesadilla.” Like the peanut butter and cherry, it was created in a moment of parental desperation (my own) and has caught on like wildfire. I know that a quesadilla, by definition, implies cheese. But peanut butter can make tortillas stick together as well or better than cheese, and so we use the term loosely.
Unlike the sandwiches of our youth, or my husband’s current roster of sandwiches, it has a pretty good nutritional pedigree.
2 corn tortillas (Though, who is to stop you from using flour or some sort of hybrid? Not I.)
Peanut butter (Do everything in your power to get the kind that is ground peanuts and a bit of salt without sugar or replacement oils. If you are used to the processed kind, it will take next to no time to get readjusted to the good kind.)
Honey (We prefer the kind who lives in a bear, naturally.)
Prunes (There have been leaps forward in prune technology, and they are actually a moist, delightful, iron and potassium rich food. And it’s not like their sole purpose is improved gastric motility, so don’t be afraid of prunes.)
Take 2 corn tortillas. Moisten both sides before putting them into the microwave for 30 seconds.
Transfer to a clean plate (one without condensation on it).
Spread with peanut butter. Drizzle with honey. Using poultry shears (or prune shears or a knife) snip bits of prune onto the peanut butter. Top with the other tortilla. Clap the quesadilla from hand to hand until it’s cool enough for a child to eat.
Slice, present, and wait for him to demand one the next day.