The jar sits there. In the cupboard. What matters is not the jar but what's inside it. Peanut butter. The ground nut butter is the color of a light wool Italian tailored suit in fawn. The jelly, on the countertop like a starlet, it's blackberryness all backlit and seductive, acts like it doesn't know the peanut butter, as if they don't have some history.
Like Elizabeth Taylor playing Cleopatra and Richard Burton playing Anthony in Anthony and Cleopatra, they have often been slathered together between sheets of white bread with the crusts cut off. Like that. Like slathering. Thick, too. Maybe one of them wore driving shoes. Tod's. Or Tom Ford's jawline. Historic.
Epic. Secrets. What we're talking about is kid's lunchbox food. But more than that. We're talking about culture, the culture of the business class. Enterprise. Gumption. Zing. Ground nut and rich berry. Uptown girl. It's American not American't, it's slather two good things together and say, son, this was the public school lunch of your daddy, but your daddy made it and wears no-pleat gabardine in cerise, golfs St. Andrews with a Gucci caddy, this, was his sandwich. Remember, when you're a man, a man leaves the crusts on.