These Don't go Together

The back door swung open and Pete yelled that lunch was ready. I ran to the house.  I loved it when Peter made lunch.  It was never what you would expect.  

One of my favorites as an 8-year old was peanut butter, jelly and cheese. Peanut butter on one side of the bread, jelly on the other and two or three slices (depending on the thickness of the cut) of American cheese in the middle.  Had to be Land “O Lakes cheese or it didn’t count.  There was no other brand of cheese in the Gode household.

Another sandwich he “created” was peanut butter, jelly and pickles.  Sounds awful, doesn’t it? But don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

Peter was my older brother by 7 years and I loved him more than anything.  Everything he did, I had to try to do also.  This caused many falls, scrapes, bruises and stitches as a kid, but I think it made me a tougher person.

One day for lunch, he gave me a piece of bread with butter on it.  I looked at him and frowned.

“This is boring”, I said.

“Not finished yet.  Keep your pants on, little girl.”

He topped the buttered bread with a spoonful of sugar sprinkled over the bread.

This was a treat he prepared only occasionally when Mom wasn’t around because she didn’t like the use of all the sugar.

And so my childhood went until one day, he yelled that lunch was ready. I jumped off my swing and ran into the kitchen.

He had raisin bread on the table, a bag of potato chips and something in a bowl with a spoon in his hand.  He knew I wasn’t crazy about raisin bread so he must have created something really good for me to try.

I sat at the table and he plopped a spoonful on tuna on the bread.  YUCK!  These don’t go together,” I cried.

“Are you kidding, Peter?” I asked.  “You know these are two of my yuckiest things and so you put them together. They don’t go together.”

He frowned at me. “I just want you to try it. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Fine.  But then you’ll make me a real sandwich?”  I asked.

“Ya, ya. Just try it.”

“May I have a glass of milk please? Thinking that the milk could wash down this little taste of horror.

He poured me a giant glass of milk, spread the tuna over the bread, plopped some chips on my plate, stood back and smiled.

I put the sandwich to my nose and sulked as I took the smallest bite you could imagine.

The taste took me by surprise, so I took a bigger bite.

“This is so good,” I smiled at him. 

“It was the only thing we had ‘til Mom gets back from grocery shopping,” he explained.

A can of tuna mixed with Miracle Whip. Had to be Miracle Whip as a kid, (but I smartly switched to Hellman’s as an adult). The added touch was about a quarter cup of chopped celery.  Really chopped.

I don’t know. Maybe it was the sweet of the raisins with the sharp taste of the Miracle Whip, but it was delicious and anything with chopped celery is gonna be on my food list.

I still eat this as an adult. My friends have gotten used to seeing this sandwich appear at picnics and family get-togethers.  It has turned into one of my comfort foods along with grilled cheese and chicken soup.

Those of you who are grimacing now, all I ask is that you try this sandwich.  If you hate it, no skin off my nose, but you might discover a new appreciation for things that shouldn’t go together.

Thanks, Pete, for a great memory and an even better sandwich!