Nyel said he hadn’t had one since college and, though it sounded pretty gross to me, I figured what the heck.  When your sole method of in-house transport is hopping on one foot behind a walker, you need a little something to break the monotony.  So I went out and got the dill pickles.  We already had the mayo and the peanut butter and a loaf of Dave’s Killer Bread.

The directions were simple:  smear one piece of bread with the chunky peanut butter, fairly thick; spread mayonnaise on the other piece, also with a liberal hand.  I wasn’t quite sure how many slices of pickle, so I let the patient do that himself.  He said it probably was a deviation from fifty years ago, but he did cut the sandwich in half.  After his first bite, the verdict was “delicious” and after his last bite he repeated that assessment.  However, he wasn’t quite convincing enough to cause me to make one for myself.

The process reminded me a lot of an activity I often did with my second graders.  I asked them to write directions for making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  On the appointed day, I brought the supplies and made the sandwiches as the kids took turns reading their instructions.

First put the peanut butter on the bread.  So I placed the jar of peanut butter on the loaf of bread.  Shrieks of laughter and “No, no, no, Mrs. Stevens!  Not that way!  You know what I mean!”

Or Take two slices of bread and spread jelly on one and peanut butter on the other.  I did,  With my hands.  More laughter and “I can’t believe you did that!” from one of the onlookers.  Me either, but I must say they got the point.  The next time I asked them to write out directions – I think it was for how to drink a glass of water – they were much more specific.

As for Nyel – I think it will be pretty hard to top that PB, M, & DP extravaganza, but I’ll certainly follow the directions if a new recipe is forthcoming.  We’re just having too much fun here in Oysterville!