Skippy

 

Pictured: Rachel holding this hallucinogenic PB.

I found out about ‘Skippy’ probably earlier than most British kids, when passing time in a computer class at school by seeing where ‘peanutbutter.com’ would take me. As you can see, I’m not lying about it being a lifelong obsession. 

Research turns up that it is the highest selling brand in China, and second only to Jif worldwide – who knew! Now we know what happens when one brand dominates the market and it doesn’t always mean it’s good, so I’m wary of this from the word go. 

The logo is mental, with 5 titles screaming out ‘Extra Crunchy!’, ‘Super Crunch’, ‘Great Peanut Taste’, ‘Skippy!’ and ‘Peanut Butter’ just in case you’re not quite sure what you’re buying. The design is like a superhero logo, but I’ve a feeling this is more Lex Luthor than Superman. 

More clues on the jar boast ‘real peanut pieces’ and the ingredients brazenly boast an all-time-low percentage of peanuts – 90%. I’m on the lookout.

Spreading is exactly as you’d imagine from an ‘extra crunchy’ spread but it’s quite moist so doesn’t hold up too much resistance, and suddenly my eyes open to a diner in the middle of New York….

Everyone’s eating Skippy here, I can see the jars lurking on every table in the place of ketchup or salt and pepper, with customers being brought more toast like coffee refills. The sun shines through the window and casts a yellow, cinematic hue over the air, while Elvis plays on the jukebox in the corner. 

“More toast, honey?” the waitress leans towards me and smiles with her perfect teeth. 

“No thanks, I’m just leaving” I reply (a yankee accent comes out my mouth, I don’t know how) and reach instinctively for a few dollar bills and place them on the table. Confused by my own accents, I step out on to the busy street. Skippy adverts are everywhere, and looming like a corporate behemoth across the street is…. Skippy headquarters. It must be – the sign spins up above, gleaming in the sunlight. I’m going in. 

Suddenly my consciousness flickers, between images of the street and my kitchen where I thought I was. I stop moving, so as not to fall over, but I’m disorientated… the world spins… and 

BAM here I am, sitting in a chair, with my Skippy laden muffin sitting on a plate on my lap. There’s a man in front of me, totally bald and gazing out of the 100th floor window at the city. I daren’t take a bite, but I can taste the sweet, strange flavours in my mouth. There’s a hint of something there that’s… nearly peanuts, but I just can’t tell what it is (similar experience with Jif). Oh, sshhh, the main seems to be in the middle of a story. 

“…then we lost touch. Sugar content rose, palm oil added weight, and we just didn’t know what we were making any more. But no one knows Henry. No one has ever questioned us but you. I can’t even remember what it’s like without added sugar and salt any more. But maybe… I don’t want to know!”

He turns to me, eyes gleaming, peanut butter around his lips and chin like a child post-sandwich. 

“Eat it” he demands.

I’m hungry, so I do. It’s pleasant, but it’s so… Hollywood. Slightly saccharine, and oily in a way that feels… artificial. I can’t help liking it though. The man stares at me…. I can feel his eyes boring in to me as I take bite after bite, he laughs maniacally, louder and louder, the sun shines brighter, and suddenly……!

I’m back in the kitchen, and the plate is empty. I’m going to have another slice of Skippy. 

 

Saltysweet scale – 7

Texture – Lubricated, Crunchy, Hollywood.

7/10 Henrys