Summer 2004

Hey! You Got Your Japan in My Peanut Butter

On the way to Narita International airport to catch a flight to Saipan (a little pre-vacation vacation), I stopped off to buy a snack for the road. So, one Diet Coke, one Snickers, and a peanut butter sandwich-esque item later, I was ready to go.

We had a few minutes before the Narita Express train arrived. I popped open the Coke and broke the wrapper on the sandwich, which was allegedly peanut butter-flavored. The package consisted of two compressed whitebread, crustless peanut buttered envelopes of deception. You must envision taking two pieces of Wonder bread and removing the crusts uniformly around each slice. Then, after injecting the 'peanut butter' filling between the two, the edges are clamped down and sealed. Add a dash of traitorous consumer hatred, and then you'll understand what I'm talking about here.

It advertised itself on the wrapper by touting, "This snack contains peanut butter made from peanuts of good quality. You can enjoy it as it is or after toasting it light.", which is, of course, a filthy lie. Wars have been started for less treachery.

Upon first taste, I thought to myself: "This isn't Skippy. It's not even Jif." Amy Amy Bo-Bamy, one of my travel companions, asked for a bite after hearing my initial commentary. She said, after chewing thoughtfully, that it was too sweet and too smooth to be peanut butter. "It reminds me of hazelnut", were her exact words.

I thought that sounded right, so I concurred. However, there was the texture element to consider, and then she hit it dead on.

"It tastes more like peanut butter frosting.", she said.

Bingo. That was it exactly. Imagine the moment of true clarity as it unfolded before your eyes: the sandwich was living a lie, and I fell for it. I felt cheapened, used. I have Amy Amy Bo Bamy to thank for the enlightenment, but I'll never forgive Yamazakipan, the makers of the sandwich.