People are usually surprised when I admit that one of my favorite foods of all time is peanut butter. It took me 4 months to convince my Spanish roommates to try it, but once they did, they were immediately seduced by its magical powers. I’m usually a purist, though, when it comes to peanut butter. I eat a PB&J, have it with apple slices, or ants on a log as a snack, but that’s about it. As I’ve mentioned before, I like to make my own granola, and finally I found a recipe where I can combine the power of peanut butter and homemade granola.
I recently returned from a 6-day trip to Door County, Wisconsin. If you haven’t yet been there, you are really missing out. I started visiting there with my family 20 years ago, and not much has changed since that first year I went. It’s one of the few places in the US that has been untouched by big corporations and chain restaurants. Every institution you go to you feel like you’re part of the family — as in, the actual family that owns it — and they welcome you with warm smiles and sconnie accents. By the end of the trip you’re throwing around “Don’tcha know”s like you’ve been living there your whole life. It’s marvelous.
Usually there’s a big group of us that go, but this year it was just me, my dad, and my step mom. It made for some serious bonding time and a captive audience for my dad and the
corny hilarious things he says. For example, the three of us are biking on a beautiful trail. There are a lot of hills — despite my assumption that they no longer existed in the midwest — so we are getting tired. My dad finds himself on a relatively flat surface. “When there’s gravity, use it! That’s what I always say!” he states as he rides along beginning up a hill. He’s not pedaling. He’s not moving. “Guess there’s no gravity right here!” he says. “That’s what you always say, huh, dad?” I joke. “Well, I said it, and I believe it!” he responds with a proud smirk.