Life Goal Accomplished: 100% From-Scratch PBJ!

Back in high school, a good friend of mine named Blake insisted that all of his friends create a bucket list. It could have as many items as the individual wished, and they could be of any caliber, from skydiving to attending a professional sporting event.

One of the more attainable items on my own list has taken me nearly five years to get around to: Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, entirely from scratch. Seems easy enough, right? So how come it stayed squarely on that list as I collected two new diplomas, gathering dust with the likes of "Swim with Dolphins" and "Go See The Bears Play in the Super Bowl"?

Over the years, I have definitely made jam, certainly baked bread, and even took up the new habit of making my own sunflower seed butter on a weekly basis. I had no excuses left up my sleeve.

So last week, upon moving into my beautiful new house in Highland Park, I decided there was no better way to break in the new kitchen than with this neglected endeavor.

First, the PB:

This is something I make, like I said, on a weekly basis. I know the traditional recipe calls for Peanut Butter, hence the unforgettable initial namesake. But my mom developed a peanut allergy years ago, our house made the switch to SunButter, and I just plain prefer it this way. Sorry, tradition.

Next up, the J:

This is made from a medley of fruits I had in my freezer, care of Trader Joe's. Someday I'll make this with fresh organic crap from a market or something, but for my current unemployed status, this had to suffice. It's a blend of raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, and mango with some pumpkin pie spice tossed in at the last minute. According to the roommates, it smells like Christmas and tastes like pie filling. That'll do.

Finally, the part I put off til last, the bread:

I got really lucky here. For starters, I could not find a single recipe simple enough to accommodate the ingredients I had on hand. Everyone wants to be a star, everyone wants to throw honey in, etc. I decided to toss conventional baking and chemical wisdom over my shoulder with the dish towel and make do with what I had: All-Purpose flour, water, table sugar, Flieschmann's packets, grapeseed oil, and some vital wheat gluten leftover from my last seitan batch. I messed up a few early steps, had to shape leftover dough into makeshift baguettes for lack of a second loaf pan, and actually had to knead the gluten in after forgetting to mix it with the flour.

On top of that, LADWP decided to cut off my power during the second rise, rendering my stove and freezer useless for about 20 hours. This dough rose far more than it should have, but as soon as the power went back on, I tossed it in and took my chances.

The results were a glorious pillowy salty, almost sourdoughy loaf that I literally cannot stop eating. It's almost as bad as the great Challah binge of Passover 2009, but I've managed to stop myself long enough to write this blog entry.

THE RESULT:

Bliss.
Sublime, perfect, intoxicating bliss. I sat at my desk eating this masterpiece, enjoying it just as much if not more than anything Grant Achatz, Wolfgang Puck, or Mario Batali ever fed me.

The moral of this story is cheesy and stereotypical, as great things in life sometimes are: Today, I ingested the ultimate proof that it's the simplest things that mean the most, and also that delayed gratification is always worth the wait.

Now if only I could stop eating this bread...