Fluff

Ask anyone who grew up in New England what one of their favorite childhood sandwiches was, and I’m guessing that a good two-thirds would name the Fluffernutter. It was certainly one of mine.

Admittedly, I didn’t have the most sophisticated or refined taste at that point in my life.

Other sandwiches on my list back then would have been (in addition to t:he PBJ and the grilled cheese, which remain favorites): American cheese and dill pickle on white bread (no butter, no mayo, no nothing), baloney and dill pickle on white bread (no butter, no mustard, no nothing), and a “bakey”: crisp bacon folded into a slice of white toast oozing melted butter.

And then there was our family specialty sandwich, the Gus, which my brother Tom (a.k.a., Gus) and I invented: bacon, lettuce, cheese, mayo and dill pickle. Still a yummy favorite!

I also liked a tuna sandwich, but only the way my mother made it – big chunks of tuna, celery, lettuce, and onion. And Hellman’s mayonnaise. In third grade, I went to a lunchtime birthday party – a lunchtime party being something of a novelty – and being served a tuna sandwich in which no only was the tuna smashed down to a spread, but there was chopped green pepper in it. Plus there was Miracle Whip rather than Hellman’s. I was totally revolted. Fast forward a few years and I was similarly revolted when someone’s mother added – without asking – tomato to a sandwich. It’s unimaginable to me now, but I wouldn’t eat tomatoes until I was well into my teens.

So while, quite idiotically, I wouldn’t eat a BLT, I was more than happy to wolf down a Fluffernutter: peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff on white bread. Some strange folks liked jam on their Fluffernutters (I’m talking about, you, T!), but I was a purist.

And it had to be real Marshmallow Fluff, made in Lynn, Massachusetts, and not the execrable faux fluff produced by Kraft.

One of the ways in which I learned to cope with life’s little disappointments was opening up the jar of Fluff, only to find that it had reached the stage when, getting to the bottle of the jar, the remaining Fluff had turned to cement.

Everyone loved Fluffernutters. Including our dog, Grimbald. That is, until he tried one.

One of the stranger things I ever witnessed was seeing Grim snag a Fluffernutter off the plate of one of my brother Tom’s friends. Grim gulped the sandwich down in one bite, but hadn’t counted on the combo of peanut butter and fluff being so sticky that it was clamping the poor dog’s jaws together.

Anyway, my thoughts turned to Fluff (as opposed to fluff, which they do constantly) when I saw an article the other day in the Boston Globe on it.

Since so little is actually made around here (as opposed to thought up, cured, or transacted), we can always expect the odd article on something tangible produced in these parts. One such item is Fluff, going strong for nearly 100 years, brought to us by the Durkee-Mower company, still run by a member of the Durkee family. And whipping up seven million pounds of the stuff each year.

“A lot of people get very, very excited about the whole thing,” [John] Durkee said, shortly after a Globe photographer spotted a pair of apparent Fluff tourists taking pictures of the building. Although the fascination remains a bit of a mystery to him, Durkee said his company recently approved a request by a clothing company to sell T-shirts featuring the Fluff brand at local retailers.

Well, I’m certainly in when that happens.

It’s not a huge business. Just 18 employees who:

…work 10-hour days churning up 140-quart batches of Fluff in big, loud Hobart mixers. The finished Fluff is poured through a tube into a filling room, extruded into jars, and packed into boxes by clunking, hissing machines. Some jars are shipped and others stored for the baking season. Later this summer, Durkee said, production will scale up for the school year and the holidays.

Business is steady, and Durkee admits his may be the last generation to run it. As long as they don’t sell out to Kraft! As long as they keep making it in Massachusetts, land of the free and the home of the Fluffernutter.

Haven’t had one in a while, but I feel one coming on soon.

The Globe writer missed a beat, however. Teddie Peanut Butter is also made outside of Boston. Although we were a Peter Pan home when I was was growing up, Teddie’s is the house-brand chez moi. Wonder what it would be like to combine all-natural Teddie’s with all-unnatural Fluff. Might be pretty good… On a couple of pieces of Nashoba Farms sour dough or French, it might actually be a bit healthful…