I’ve had to spread my attention and effort across too wide a surface of late. During these weeks, I’ve also found out that Americans use “peanut-buttering” as slang for precisely this act. Thus, one can peanut-butter, be peanut-buttered, or plan to peanut-butter at some point in the future.
Having come to the US as an adult, peanut butter actually is a touchstone for me, in the way natto, or rice for breakfast, is for caucasians living in Japan. It’s the thing your hosts eat that you absolutely cannot fathom until one day, in a moment that marbles epiphany and loss, you can. I was in grad school at the time, and frequently too busy to eat.
Nonetheless, I’m obscurely disappointed1 that peanut butter, of all the spreadable foods of the world, is the one we invoke when we satisfice. Among the recent demands on my time was the baking and assembly of a cake, which made me think how much better it would be if we talked about buttercream instead.
Peanut-buttering is slapdash. Buttercreaming looks slapdash, but is done with intention.
Peanut-butter is spread for a quick snack. Buttercream is spread with greater ambitions.
You can, and should, only peanut-butter a surface once. You apply buttercream with the intention of returning.
Peanut-buttering over and over leads to an undesirable buildup of peanut butter. Repeated buttercreaming leads to a smooth surface, and a proper ratio of buttercream to cake.
If you talk about peanut-buttering, your colleagues will think your team is stretched thin. If you talk about buttercreaming, your colleagues will think you are a serious baker, and ask you for cake.
Some people would say that “obscurely disappointed” is my permanent frame of mind. They’re wrong.