When I was stationed in Cuba, a Tennessee belle named Sanders had us to dinner at her home in Caimanera. One of the boys, from the Socialist Republic of Massachusetts, asked for peanut butter to put on his cornbread. I thought Mrs. Sanders was going to choke on her sweet tea, but, being the lady she was, went to the kitchen and found Frenchy some peanut butter. I believe it was Jif. Stan