Chunky Peanut Butter by Ethan Rothenberg

Until a couple of months ago, smooth peanut butter was, to me, a relic of a forgotten time—a failed trial at a classic food. My blissful ignorance propelled me to believe that everyone was, like myself, enlightened on the benefits and wonders of chunky peanut butter.

It seemed obvious to me that everyone understood the undeniable fact that a textured peanut butter, crafted with the character and flare that its creator George Washington Carver envisioned for it, is far superior to its monotonous and dull counterpart. Real people need structure to their peanut butter, a kick that screams out that it is real food with character—not an ambiguous nut-flavored pudding.

All of the flaws of smooth peanut butter are addressed in its chunky peer. Too boring? Chunky has vibrant pieces of nuts to spice it up. Not “peanutty” enough? Chunky has nutty niblets to remind a diner that they are indulging in something natural, not some artificially smooth concoction crafted in a chemistry class. The only reason that someone would choose to gobble smooth peanut butter is that they are afraid of the  chunky. They must fear stepping out of their comfort zone and into the world of multiple textures.

The flaw in not eating chunky peanut butter because of fear is that a life lived in fear—a life fearing variety—is a life not fully lived.

Thus, I must come to the conclusion that anyone who insists upon smooth peanut butter is just not living their life to the fullest. Sometimes, one must confront their fears in order to experience true joy.

Creamy Peanut Butter by David Lubbock

Ethan, as I stand before you today I can say with 100% and absolute certainty that creamy peanut butter is by far superior to the classless, unfinished, impure disgrace that is chunky peanut butter. There is no reason to make a sandwich more difficult to eat, no purpose behind leaving rock solid, teeth-breaking bits in what would otherwise be perfect, finished, creamy peanut butter. That describes chunky perfectly… Unfinished.

As George Washington Carver, the inventor  of peanut butter, said, “There is no shortcut to achievement. Life requires thorough preparation—veneer isn’t worth anything.” Is this a man who would have any appreciation for unfinished peanut butter? I think not. Chunky peanut butter is a great disrespect to such an honorable man. Creamy peanut butter is beautiful in its simplicity and its ease of application onto a piece of bread is an afterthought to the simple fact that there is not reason to overcomplicate something so perfect when uncomplicated.

Tarnishing this fantastic recipe with chunks of raw peanut is a downright disgrace, an act of unnecessary destruction to a flavor and texture that is unmatched in the sandwich game.  

This piece also appears in our January print edition.