Tom Wolfe once said "One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as five years."
So well said.
Perhaps the reason I love this city so is that it so well encompasses everything and everyone, welcoming you with its gentle embrace while it repeatedly kicks you in the groin.
Sandwich 42: Peanut Butter and Co.
While I normally believe that pairing a specific beer or wine with a meal can enhance the visceral experience of consumption, at Peanut Butter and Co., it's not so much what you pair with it as how much of it you pair it with. As in, more booze equals better experience.
I am not here to advocate binge drinking or imply you need to be drunk to appreciate the glory of Peanut Butter and Co. It's just that a slight intoxication will help you override the guilt of punishing your body with the delectable sandwiches of this establishment, all of which are obviously super-saturated with butter of the peanut form.
Gimmicks are, by nature, just that, gimmicky. I was hesitant entering an eatery based solely around peanut butter, however, as Peanut Butter and Co. manufactures their own peanut butter in a stupid amount of scintillating varieties (you can find them in any major grocery store), I was willing to give it a shot.
It delivers. This is not your standard peanut butter and jelly establishment. Their menu features such greats as "The Elvis," containing a healthy amount of home-made peanut butter, honey, bananas, and just the right amount of bacon. I don't blame the King for his early demise, sandwiches like this are totally worth losing the last twenty years of your life over.
Also featured in PB&C is "The Heat is On." Tender, grilled chicken, smeared with a glob of surprisingly sizzling peanut butter, and smothered in pineapple jam. It's advertised as mimicking something of a Thai satay sauce, but I believe it is truly its own entity.
Every sandwiches come with pickles and Peanut Butter and Co. potato chips, which, unsurprisingly, go very well with peanut butter. My buddy and I also managed to con the girls next to us into giving us half of their "Peanut Butter Brownie Blast Sundae." I'm not one for hyperbole, but my trip to Peanut Butter and Co. was, bar none, the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my life. Or, at least, it seemed so until the next morning, when I awoke hungover as hell with dirty morning peanut butter breath.
We must all make sacrifices for awesome life experiences.