Food Fit for the King

I've always felt a special connection to Elvis. We have the same birthday. My hair was easily fashioned to match his mop for non-consecutive Halloween costumes. Though I was raised more on the Beach Boys and Beatles, I've always had a hunch that the King and I would have gotten on nicely.

If I had any remaining doubt that I was just a misunderstood hound dog, it was removed when I tried Elvis' favorite food--the peanut butter and banana sandwich--and took it as my own.

In the Presley Family Cookbook--written by Vester Presley, Elvis' uncle and a guard at Graceland, and Nancy Rooks, a Graceland maid--the recipe calls for smooth peanut butter and smashed banana on white bread pan-fried in butter (though the King doth prefer bacon fat) until golden brown. Elvis was known to eat twelve of his signature sandwiches in one sitting, with buttermilk to wash them down.

What shocks and troubles me--obviously not that he died a fat, fat man sitting on the toilet--is that this brilliant recipe has been all but lost to the ages.

It might make Elvis roll over in his king-sized casket, but I've rediscovered the dish in a less literally heart-breaking style. Just as the Country Cat took blues guitar from the Deep South and made it accessible from coast to coast, I bring you a variation on the sandwich that can be a big fat hunk o' love without making you one.

To start, white bread went out with blue suede shoes. The Wonder Bread version is worth trying once, but there are livelier loaves out there. I prefer Milton's, a multigrain bread I get air dropped from Costco, for its generous size and subtle sweetness.

In terms of the peanut butter and banana, preferences are bound to vary. I take my peanut butter crunchy, whether it's on sandwiches or salmon. It is particularly good on a grilled or toasted sandwich for the profound contrast between the melted "butter" and the obstinate chunks.

I don't smash my bananas either; it's simultaneously infantilizing and emasculating. I am currently torn between two schools on cutting: circles à la cereal or fruit salad vs. lengthwise cuts in half or--if you're a real pro--the banana's natural thirds. The former provides a more complete coverage, while the latter protects against orphan slices during preparation or consumption. Of course, ripeness is a virtue.

Butter remains a must--the secret to the sandwich's success. I suggest applying it liberally at the beginning and again before flipping using a glue-stick method on the hot pan. Land o' Lakes is better than Elmers'. And mind the temperature and timing, lest you end up with a pan full of burnin' love.

The finished product screams out to "love me tender." The first bite, at once crisp and melted, is almost as transcendent as the last. The whole experience is a meditation on flavors, textures, and America. After eating one, you'll agree that it might just be the true American food. Though Elvis gave America over 100 top-40 singles, fought in World War II, and set the trend in weight gain, his greatest contribution to the country may yet prove to be what he was wolfing down by the dozen in Graceland.

All hail peanut butter and banana. Long live the king.