Peanut Butter and Tory

I have recently come to the decision that I must try all of the "famous" foods in New York.  There was a recent article in the NY Times about the spate of eateries cropping up across the city.  Each eatery claims to be the "best" of a fill-in-the-blank narrow food niche - mac n' cheese / hot dogs / chicken / meatballs / oysters.  Peanut Butter.

Accordingly, Cuddles, G and I met for lunch at Peanut Butter & Co., a casual eatery in the West Village where you can get all kinds of specialty peanut butter sandwiches.  Now, when he heard about it, my brother said that the place was probably started by some dude who got mocked for not knowing how to cook and eating peanut butter sandwiches all day and eventually the guy was like "oh yeah? I bet i can open a restaurant with this!"  Which, to be fair, could totally be true.  That being said, it was a pretty amusing place to eat.  The walls were covered with kitschy peanut butter ads (like the lunchbox above), and the music ranged from oldies-but-goodies to somewhat deranged-sounding children proclaiming their love for one another.  Hmm...that sounded creepier than it actually was.  I think it was supposed to be heartwarming.

As for the sandwiches, they were pretty good, although very heavy.  The three of us shared the Elvis (smooth peanut butter, bananas, honey and bacon - apparently what Elvis really ate), the Maple Bacon (maple-flavored peanut butter and bacon - our favorite), and the Fluffernutter (marshmallow spread and crunchy peanut butter).  Thanks to Cuddles and G for their patience while I obnoxiously took a photo.  To wash it down, Cuddles and G got tea and coffee, whereas I opted for the exceedingly grown-up glass of milk you can see in the background.  I'm pretty sure it's incorrect to eat peanut butter without milk.

After our peanut buttery lunch, the three of us paid a visit to the Tory Burch sample sale, where we learned that Cuddles can pretty much name the label and style of any girl's purse on sight.  Pretty neat cocktail party trick, if you ask me.  We also participated in some more draconian sample sale decorum, which included taking a number, waiting for an hour and then being whisked into the shoe section where your personal shoe assistant tells you that you have ten minutes to shop.   Who said sample sales won't pamper you?  GO GO GO!!


West Village and Fashion District.  On Canon Powershot.