I can’t remember ever not loving peanut butter. We ate it a lot as kids. Because my family was Catholic and couldn’t eat meat on Fridays then, I always looked forward to Friday lunches. My favorite Friday lunch was a peanut spread my Mom made by grinding Planters cocktail peanuts and carrots with a hand grinder, mixing it with Kraft salad dressing then spreading it on white bread.

Today to save the grinding step, I keep a jar of organic sugar-free crunchy peanut butter in my refrigerator. I also slather peanut butter on my morning apple slices. Ymmm.

Peanut butter sandwiches are my go-to meal—easy to make, nutritious, and portable. Whenever I’m travelling I take along a sandwich with crunchy peanut butter, Umboshi plum paste, and grated carrot. This is my version of Mom’s peanut spread.

The first time I flew following September 11th when airport security tightened, I was pulled aside after my back pack passed through the X-ray machine. The security agent asked me to remove my shoes which he carefully examined. Then he asked if he could look into my backpack. Of course. I was curious and nervous, as I removed everything from my back pack. He looked through what I had—the usual stuff: reading materials, water, and a peanut butter sandwich made from the heels of dense whole grain sprouted bread. He picked up my sandwich and gave me a puzzled look. I smiled politely and said, “It’s a peanut butter sandwich.” He handed it back, and sent me on my way.

After breathing a sigh of relief I found it hilarious that my peanut butter sandwich could set off a red flag for security agents. After that experience, I no longer make a sandwich from the heels of bread when I travel by air; I just use the regular inside slices. That seems to have solved the problem—no security agent has questioned me since then.

I travel through the Detroit airport fairly often. The last time I was there I found a food court shop on Concourse A called PB&J. They offer a choice of breads, peanut or cashew butter (smooth or chunky) and some kind of jam or honey. I watched a young woman make a humongous sandwich on thick slices of bread. I didn’t want anything that huge.  So I asked if I could get just one slice of bread, half a sandwich, and pay the full price ($4.49). After a discussion, the sandwich makers decided that would be OK. I got whole grain bread, and crunchy peanut butter, and that’s it. I’m not fond of jelly or anything sweet with my peanut butter. Later, when I got hungry on the flight back to Portland, I had mineral water, courtesy of the airline, with my peanut butter sandwich. I was happy to have something so easily portable that I could save until I was hungry. All airports should have a PB&J’s.

I wish I’d thought of the idea.