Peanut Butter Versus Vegemite


Chuckle #495 | January 23rd, 2013
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If I had a nickel for every container of all-natural peanut butter I’ve thrown out over the years, I’d be a rich woman.  (That is, if you define ‘rich’ as having over 23 nickels.)  Peanuts taste good.  Ground peanuts should taste really good.  So why does all-natural peanut butter taste so very bad? 

First, it has the consistency of cement.  Second, the simple, unadorned peanut doesn’t have what it takes to appease the American palate - e.g. truckloads of salt, sugar, and hydrogenated oil.

One day, when my children were very young and I had a few spare seconds to read something pithy, I devoured the fine print on the Skippy nutritional label.  I wish I hadn’t.  I’ve been trying to wean the kids off Skippy ever since.  The process is a lot like weaning an addict off heroin.  I started by mixing minuscule amounts of all-natural peanut butter into their Skippy, but I had not planned on them having such ultra-sensitive taste-buds or super quick central nervous systems.  These Skippy connoisseurs could tell I had messed with their spread of choice, and they balked.  

Operation Momma’s Skippy Cut was prematurely shut down.

Let’s face it.  Peanut butter that tastes bad is good for you, and peanut butter that tastes like candy isn’t.  Our family favorite, Honey Roasted Chunky Style Skippy, AKA the nectar of the gods, is worse for you than most.   

But is it a surprise to anyone that America’s national food is an irresistible, artery-clogging paste?

Other cultures have healthier ‘national foods’, like Tofu in Japan, or Hawaiian Poi.  Aussie mothers smear vegemite (fermented yeast) on their nipples to get their babies used to it at an early age.  They have to because vegemite tastes like rancid beef bouillon and looks even worse.  But if you ignore the fact that each ¼ teaspoon contains 3,000 mg of salt, vegemite isn’t half as bad for you as America’s big-brand peanut butters.

My children spent their formative years eating what is essentially the inside of a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup on bread, every day.  With Reeces as a starting point, ‘all-natural’ peanut butter never stood a chance. 

The moms who have served their kids only homemade jam and fresh ground peanuts since birth are probably ‘tsk-tsk-ing’ amongst themselves right now about my nutritional hubris.

That’s OK, I deserve it.  

I know that Skippy should never have been allowed to pass my children’s lips. That was a huge miscalculation on my part.  On the other hand, the organic granola moms know that they probably shouldn’t be wearing those 20 year old hand woven Himalayan socks with their Tevas.  So I guess that makes us even. 

Whoa there, Nelly!  How easy it is to fall into the shameful ‘mom on mom’ judgmental trap.  Everyone makes mistakes.  We can all learn from each other.  Group hug, okay?

Driven by guilt (like most women), I’ve tried hard to improve upon my family’s diet over the years.  I’ve made my own baby food and I’ve shelled out big bucks for organic milk in hopes of postponing breast development until after age 12.  (Guess what?  The little buggers showed up early anyway.) 

Guilt aside, I genuinely care about what my kids put in their mouths.  My big nutritional coup was getting my family to accept ‘low fat’ Skippy, which I’m pretty sure contains twice as much sugar and salt as regular Skippy in order to make up for the lack of fat.  Beyond that, the all-natural peanut butter ship has sailed.  Skippy is officially a sacred cow.

Just the same, I’m considering this battle won.  Sometimes redefining success is the only way to achieve it.

Some might say I’ve given up, but I prefer the term ‘moved on’.  Now I’m learning how to prepare Kale.  My friends (whose kids eat alien greens like kale) say it is a very healthy vegetable, plagued by an unfortunate bitterness.  So far I’ve thrown away a lot of kale, but not for lack of trying. Even my new ‘granola mom’ friends have given me an A for effort. 

In return, I am graciously giving them a pass on the ‘socks-with-Tevas’ look, even though it drives me crazy.

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