One of the staples of my 20-something, live-alone, not-entertaining-guests diet is the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This simple treat has served me well from the first day of kindergarten to the first day of grad school, and beyond. But despite its simplistic nature, there's a lot that can still go wrong with the pb&j.
What you will need:
Peanut butter--Really any peanut butter will do, what's your favorite?. Crunchy? Smooth? There's no right answer. The perfect sandwich is more about the technique than the ingredients. I used "Adam's 100% Natural Creamy" peanut butter because chicks dig a guy who is pseudo-health-conscious.
2 slices of bread--again, pick your poison. I usually go with white bread, however for this sandwich, I used Franz's "Nine Grain Bread" because the number of grains in the bread is directly proportional to the size of a man's...
Jelly--I know I said it was about the technique and not the ingredients, but here it is absolutely imperative that you choose a jelly with no sugar added. I don't know if you've ever eaten fruit before, but that stuff's pretty sweet. Adding more sugar just makes things unpleasantly sweet, and dilutes the flavor.
Step 1: Place the two slices of bread side by side on a plate. I can't overemphasize how important this step is. Stack the slices on top of each other and you'll have a hard time spreading peanut butter on the bottom slice. Put the two slices too far apart and you'll be dripping jelly all over your kitchen as you walk back and forth. Side by side is where they belong.
Step 2: Spread the peanut butter on BOTH slices of bread. Jelly and bread are natural enemies. They should never touch. The peanut butter is the insulating sheath that keeps the two apart. It's also the paste that holds everything together. The goal is to create no opportunity for escape. Not one drop of jelly should reach your mouth without becoming peanut butter-fied first.
Next, scoop a mound of jelly onto the middle of one of the slices of bread. When I say a mound, I really mean a mound. Just like peanut butter is the paste that holds the sandwich together, jelly is the lubrication that makes it all go down smoothly. Skimp on the jelly and you could end up like this guy. Do you want that? Do you want to be starring in a shitty milk commercial? When he told his friends he was quitting his job as an architect to make it big in Hollywood, this wasn't what he had in mind.
Though the mound of jelly might look too big to fit inside a sandwich, gently massage it with a spoon or knife. It will settle into place. Jelly was never meant to be "spread"--it's not in its nature. Just help it relax, and it'll do the work.
Finally, place the jelly-free slice of bread on top of the pile and gently pinch along the edges. The two layers of peanut butter should ooze together as one, trapping the jelly inside. If you did it right, the mount of jelly should still be visible in the center of the sandwich. That is the flavor yearning to be free, but it can't escape--at least not until you take a bite and liberate it in all of its fruity goodness. Until then it is trapped in its peanut butter/bread prison. Hoping that some day a brave prince will come along and have it for lunch.
Just a word of warning, this bad boy comes in at over 600 calories, so don't have a second one unless you really mean it.