Archibald Query of Somerville, Massachusetts first whipped up marshmallow fluff in 1917 and, to this day, every year on October 8th, the residents of Somerville laud his miraculous creation with the “What the Fluff?” festival. It just so happened that October 8th fell during my time in the Northeast, and, as a Northeasterner myself, I thought it would be a disservice to the fluff to not include it in my menu.
The origin of my nuclear family can be definitively traced to Western New York, namely, Buffalo. My parents met there, my brother and I were born there and every summer until I was 14, we summered there. It’s the reason that I still support the Buffalo Bills, pronouce pecan “pea-can” and can remember Niagara Falls before it became overrun with casinos. It’s also the reason that I can, without guilt, call a fluffernutter sandwich part of a well-balanced meal. There’s nothing really special about it, but then there’s everything special about it. A peanut butter sandwich layered with marshmallow fluff rather than jelly, when served on toast (making it melty), toes the line with the “dessert” category. However, for today, and for purposes of checking the box on one of my Northeastern foods, it’s lunch.
If I’m being completely honest, the other reason, for me, that the fluffernutter is an awesome meal choice, is that I’m a peanut butter addict. My pantry is always fully stocked, and I can always be counted on to have some handy whilst on vacation (you know, in case there’s a peanut butter emergency. One can never be to careful). From Germany to Nepal and down to Peru, you can bet I had a jar in my bag. My love for peanut butter annually becomes an addiction, and it’s at that point that Lent seems to roll around and I make the ultimate sacrifice for 40 days, hoarding Reese’s PB eggs until Easter morning. Because my mom was choosy, I prefer Jif. I also refuse to join either camp of creamy or crunchy, so I use both together. My recipe for success is: a layer of creamy, a few dollops of crunchy, swirled together with fluff and spread on toasted sprouted wheat bread.
Experiencing a twinge of grown-up guilt about my choice of lunch, I’ve accompanied it with tomato soup.