Peanuts are an invasive legume. They find their way into various desserts, trail mixes, and even some pet food. In the South, they sometimes manage to drop into the occasional coke. (Only a true Southerner understands the exact definition of that singular word.)
So interfering are peanuts that in 1979, peanut butter producer Jif published a cookbook where the meddling goobers in paste form could call a variety of dishes and drinks home. Nothing was spared. Meats, vegetables, smoothies, soups, and, since this was the tailend of the 1970s, dinner party spreads.
Let’s not waste any time. Ingredients assemble!
(Of course I didn’t read the label on the peanuts jar. Of course I had to chop them up to the best of my abilities.)
To begin… In a small glass bowl, microwave butter or margarine for 30 seconds or till melted. No glass bowl, but my off-brand Uesta Hold Margarine containers worked just as well.
Add mushrooms, green onions, and parsley, stirring well. Microwave 2 minutes or till vegetables are tender. Stir in lemon juice. That looks like a decent dip for bland water crackers. It would probably add some flavor to rice cakes, too. Normally, I’d say no to that experiment, but after tomato aspic, I don’t think I have the right to turn down anything weird.
In another glass bowl, microwave cream cheese 30 seconds or till soft. Add Jif, worcestershire sauce, and hot pepper sauce; beat with mixer till fluffy. No mixer, but my arm worked just as well… for maybe three minutes. Still, I got the mixture all fluffed up. For some weird reason, the hot pepper sauce smelled potent during this stage but not the others.
Just an odd thought, but what if I’d used Peter Pan peanut butter?
Stir in mushroom mixture. Doesn’t that look… festive?
The hard work was done. Now to let it rest.
Chill several hours.
The next morning, I checked on the mixture. Stone frigging hard. Spooning it out of the container took some effort. I was afraid that I’d send a glob rocketing across the kitchen.
Microwave bacon between paper toweling 4 to 6 minutes or till crisp. Cool and crumble; mix with peanuts. Set aside. I nuked the precooked bacon for 30 seconds till it was still chewy. Crisping bacon before the point of burning is a skill I’ve yet to master, and I didn’t feel like attempting it this time.
(Allow me a moment to address one of my English peeves: What’s with using till for until? It makes me think of cash registers, not a vague measurement of time.)
When pâté is chilled, shape into a ball and roll in peanut-bacon mixture.
I stared at the lump of mushroom-littered cream cheese mess, then at the peanut-bacon mix. Huh. So that pile of peanut and bacon crumbles is supposed to cover that cheesy mass with nothing left over? I thought. Okay… I’m sure the Jif test kitchens knew what they were doing…
Augh. The stuff was like paste, sticking to every surface of my hands. Smoothing out the ball itself was futile, as teeny spikes would pop out as soon as my fingers left its tacky surface. Washing my hands with soap and water got rid of the pâté, but the peanut butter scent remained.
Rolling the pâté over the peanut-bacon mix was easier than I’d hoped. As soon as those savory crumbs covered every surface, I was spared any more tacky, peanut buttery globiness. Plus, there was hardly any peanut-bacon mix remaining.
Serve with snack crackers. There, a pâté befitting a surly blue-collar worker’s half-assed dinner party. I even used a plate from the everyday dinnerware. (I wasn’t digging out a nicer plate for this one photo.)
Now the moment of truth…
The peanut butter is definitely the star in this one, but not overwhelmingly so; the cream cheese mutes the flavor (as if peanut butter possessed any extreme flavor) and adds a heaviness to the overall texture.
This dip works better in small amounts. Spread a thin layer on your cracker or skim it with the side of said cracker… if the thickness doesn’t catch your cracker and snap it in half. The concave I slowly dug out of the mound was speckled with tiny flakes. At one point, I thought about doing away with the crackers and eating the pâté by itself like the glutton I secretly aspire to become.
As for everything else: I couldn’t pick up the worcestershire sauce, the hot sauce, or the lemon juice. Fresh mushrooms may have added a better texture; the thawed mushrooms made some bites feel “spongy.” The chopped peanuts add a nice crunch, but after a few days, they begin to soften to the consistency of boiled peanuts. As for the bacon, well, you can’t go wrong with bacon in almost anything.
With the pâte at room temperature, you can make out the subtle flavors from the green onions and parsley. After it’s been chilled, though, these extra flavors are severely muted. Warm or chilled, the peanut butter-cream cheese taste hangs around for a while, even after you’ve chewed and swallowed.
It’s not something I’d guard like a hawk and deck other party-goers if they decided to take some, but it’s not as disgusting as I’d expected. If you love peanut butter-based foods or you want to bewilder your dinner guests, give this one a try.
