An ode to peanut butter..............

Last spring, from Switzerland, I was moved to repay the debt I have felt to peanut butter.  "I have never composed poetry [I wrote in my syndicated column], but if I did, my very first couplet would be:

            "'I know that I shall never see

            A poem as lovely as Skippy's Peanut Butter.'" 

     My addiction is lifelong, and total.  I reminisced.  "I was hardened very young to the skeptics.  When I was twelve, I was packed off to a British boarding school by my father, who dispatched every fortnight a survival package comprising a case of grapefruit and a large jar of peanut butter.  I offered to share my tuck with the boys who shared my table.  They grabbed instinctively for the grapefruit—but one after another actually spit out the peanut butter, which they had never before seen and which only that very year (1938) had become available for sale in London, at a store that specialized in exotic foods,  No wonder they needed American help to win the war."

-William F. Buckley, Jr., Overdrive: A Personal Documentary