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Sad, Empty Jar
Why in the name of God Almighty did I ever buy the 16 oz. jar of Cape May Peanut Butter, when in all likelihood they traffic in larger quantities? It’s easy enough for a spry, healthy male of middle years such as myself to blow through 16 ounces of the salty (and sassy!) goo in about a month, even when everyone else in the house is kept from getting their hands on it by my keeping it hidden behind forgotten jars of oyster sauce.
Maybe the fault lies with the purveyors of the fatty paste, who urge irresponsible consumption by stating, right on their label, to “spread with gusto.” Where will they be when I check myself into rehab in order to wean myself off the addictive, mashed up nut matter?
If I were your lawyer, I’d strongly recommend you share this peanut butter with no one, lest you find it empty and thrown in the recycling bin. And get a lot of it! For crying out loud, I was in Cape May this summer, when I could have stocked up.
Of course, online shopping is just a few clicks away, but one must ask if a 32 ounce jar is really worth $12? (Of course it is!)
I suppose, before making such a rash purchase I should grab another brand of natural peanut butter from my local supermarket and see if adding a little sea salt oomph will do the trick
I’ll explore and report back.