A favorite breakfast of my dad's is a peanut butter sandwich dunked in coffee. He presses the sides of a slice of peanut-buttered sandwich bread until they're just snug, and then dunks it in a hot cup of coffee. He's always careful with the dunk, lifting the coffee-d part of the sandwich up in a swooping motion so that it doesn't break off and fall in. He eats it in airy bites, cooling the coffee as it hits his mouth. This is his before-Mass, Sunday staple.
I was an ocean away from home before I tried peanut butter and coffee for the first time. I remember sitting in the dining hall of my Scottish dorm (Junior Year Abroad), which was actually a very old hotel, and, for the first time, spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread, fitting the sides together, and dunking it into a very bitter instant brew. The next morning, with some indifference, I tried it again. It took a week for the taste to hit home, but after that I was hooked.
I still can't put my finger on what is so good about this--I'm chalking it up to comfort food.
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