Pancakes with Peanut Butter and Honey...

... and other guilty pleasures, like fresh ground single-estate coffee. Or cuddling up with someone on a Saturday morning and listening to the rain on the roof, knowing that for once in a long time, you have absolutely NOTHING planned.

Speaking of peanut butter, following the latest scare, the supply of peanut butter at the local grocery store is looking very slim. I actually happened to have one of the jars with the code that was part of the recall, so I had to go get a new jar. I tried something new: Scudder's All-Natural, Old-Fashioned Peanut Butter. It reminded me of the peanut butter that the government used to give to needy families, having to stir it every time you used it because the peanut oil would rise to the top.

Remembering that peanut butter brought back memories.

My mom would volunteer for that program, helping with the distribution of those government handouts, and would occasionally bring home some of the leftovers. The cheese that everyone would rave about but I hated (American cheese, bleagh... cheese should not be sweet, give me extra sharp cheddar any day), the peanut butter, rice, beans, the canned beef and pork that, mixed with barbecue sauce in a skillet, made a decent quick and easy barbecue sandwich, and, of course, the real butter.

That was my first introduction to real butter. Up till then, we always had margarine and just called it butter. It's almost like finding out that what you've been calling mayonnaise is really Miracle Whip.

Which is one reason that you won't find margarine OR Miracle Whip in my refrigerator...