I’m not the only doing all of the cooking around here. E made a delectable yet relatively healthy dinner for us last night–roasted leg of lamb, roasted vegetables provençal and lentils. But I took over dessert, and made the most ridiculously sweet and gooey sandwich possible.

Peanut butter is another food that divides our household. My peanut butter of choice is Creamy Reduced Fat Skippy. Smooth, lower in sugar (by, like, 2 grams, who are they kidding?) but has a slight gritty texture that adds a bit of mealiness to a scoopful. E prefers–you guessed it–full fat chunky Jif peanut butter. “Ugh, creamy? REALLY? Bo-ring!” he told me at the store the other day, kicking off a heated debate in aisle 5. I bought the creamy version anyway.

Since it was late, and we were excited to go snowboarding again this weekend, I was inspired to make E another ski-lodge friendly peanut butter sandwich for dessert. With chocolate. And powdered sugar. On white bread. Which is basically a poor man’s doughnut. A lazy donut, at that.

The treat was sure to add fat to my thighs and send me on a sugar high right before bed. But dammit, it was good. It was a smaller sandwich, not on a hoagie roll, but rather a smaller loaf of bread. We split one sandwich instead of eating whole ones individually. I didn’t know if E would like his, considering I didn’t use chunky peanut butter. Instead, he devoured his half before I could hand him a napkin.

Just like smoked salmon and runny eggs, peanut butter is another point of compromise in our relationship.

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