I have a house full of peanut butter lovers.
Which makes them very easy to please at lunchtime.
"What would you like on your bread today?"
"Would you like jam or honey with it?"
"No, peanut butter".
See? Easy to please.
When we were living in Italy we had nine months without peanut butter.
That was hard.
I had to be more creative with fillings for their sandwiches.
In the lead up to Christmas I came across a jar of peanut butter in the local Alimentare grocery store.
The lady on the till looked up as I gasped in amazed excitement and picked up the small jar of gold.
Rolling it over to check the price my face visibly fell when I saw it would cost 5 euros to purchase the tiny jar for my boys.
I mean, I love them and all but come on. 5 euro? That's a whole lot of gelato or good Italian coffee or full-of-flavour fresh fruit and veges from the dear wee man at the local market.
So we passed on the peanut butter and just waited for our return to London where I bought a jar for 98p.
And now, there is one thing our cupboards are never void of, it's presence never to be taken for granted - and that's the good ol' PB.