Ever since high school, I’ve been convinced that at heart, I am a child of the 60s. I listened to The Beatles relentlessly, almost to the point where I had psychedelic dreams. The Rolling Stones were on every mixed CD I made–back when music came on CDs–though I guess that made me more of an LP kid. Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, The Moody Blues, Ray Charles, Marvin Gaye, KEARTH 101; I listened and loved.
I guess I was fated to be this way–my dad’s plane landed from Hong Kong the day that Elvis died. He got me started on oldies early, although I guess during the 1990s, Elton John was waning before he became “classic,” and The Eagles…well maybe at that point, they were “classic rock.” I went through that phase where I wanted to fit in with everyone else and pretended I cared about ‘Nsync and Britney Spears before Kevin Federline. It’s funny that these days I actually really like 90s music. Anyway, by my sophomore year in high school I was obsessed with 60s and 70s culture, movies, cars, political history, and fashion. I still am.
Elvis might be dead, but The King lives on in many ways–Vegas impersonators, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, “Jailhouse Rock,” just to name a few. My favorite reincarnation of his spirit though, is the peanut-butter and banana sandwich. Ooey, gooey, and delicious. I decided to use fresh strawberries instead and toasted the bread, although we all know Elvis would have grilled or fried it. That’s why I called this venture “Mrs. Presley’s take.” It’s a little more delicate, but just as good. The fresh version of peanut butter + strawberry jam.