The perils of food experimentation

When I got home from work today, I decided to make myself a light dinner because I wasn't terribly hungry and could stand to lose some "winter insulation". After all, it's spring which means the odds of me being seen in a bathing suit go up significantly - particularly if I have to go to Europe for some reason and get assaulted by the speedo gestapo for not wearing one.

After some thoughtful consideration of my cupboard inventory, I decided to make a peanut butter sandwich*. Sure, it's got some fat, but I really like peanut butter and hadn't made a peanut butter sandwich in a long time. But to jazz it up a little, I thought I'd stick it in the George Foreman for a minute or two to toast it up nice and crispy. Occasionally I'll do stuff like this to experiment with radical new approaches to classical Grrbear food favorites. Like when I tried mixing a little salsa into mac-and-cheese (tasty!) or peanut-butter-and-nutella sandwiches (not as good as you would think, and nowhere near the "candy sandwich" of my dreams).

In general, I have to say that the toasted PB sandwich was a success, except for ones small thing - the Foreman doesn't exactly heat super evenly, and the sandwich I made developed some undetectable pockets of super-hot liquified peanut butter that had a tendency to erupt out when one bit into them. The first time I hit one it took me quite by surprise, squirting its molten peanutty goodness onto my shirt across my chin. Once I finished shrieking like a little girl, I understood why the defenders of medieval fortresses used cauldrons of boiling oil to drive away attackers - that stuff stings!

Of course, it didn't stop me from finishing my sandwich. I just let it cool a little longer and ate it more warily. Yum!

* No jelly because I think jelly is weird and probably secretly supports the terrorists.