Can a dead man have a birthday? There is an anniversary of his death, certainly, but to me a birthday seems like an event that requires one be present. In order to celebrate a birthday one has to be alive, at the very least. I suspect, though, that I am in the minority on this matter. Every year, shortly after New Years, January 8th comes around and we are all reminded that it is Elvis’ birthday. Elvis is obviously a titan of a man, and I suppose if anyone is capable of celebrating a birthday from beyond the grave it is him.

Every so often one has to stop and think about how we will be remembered. Like most people, I hope to be remembered as a kind and charitable man, thought of fondly by those I love. But, I confess, I am greedy. I want more than that. I want something that I have seen in Elvis’ legacy. I am jealous not of his estate, or his lasting musical career. I’m jealous of the fact that everyone knows he loved a sandwich. The fried peanut butter and banana sandwich is his. You cannot consider it without thinking of him, it is his essence, presented in sandwich form. He may not be known for the sandwich but the sandwich is absolutely known for him, and I can only dream of taking such an association to my grave.

Seeing as it was the anniversary of the man’s birth, I tried to do his sandwich justice. The bread was a classic American sandwich bread, fresh out of the oven and made by my own hands. A fellow sandwich enthusiast was highly suspicious of my making a sandwich out of white bread. The man is forever on the hunt for flavor and as he told me, “I have yet to find a reason to hold any respect for white bread at all.” “It’s Elvis’ sandwich,” I told him. “What, are you going to use 7-grain?” Peanut butter went down on both slices of bread, sliced banana and a drizzle of honey in the middle. Fried in a skillet in enough butter to make me reconsider what I was doing entirely, the sandwiches came out wonderfully. The buttery, nutty sweetness is a celebratory decadence, a powerful combination that must be eaten a little bit at a time. I kept a tall glass of milk close by and took in the sandwich as it deserved. I may never be so known for any particular item but please, remember me as a man who loved a good sandwich.

There was no high minded goal with this sandwich. I simply set out to make myself a tasty sandwich and I am pleased to say that I succeeded. I marinated portobello mushrooms in olive oil, lemon juice and garlic then wrapped them in foil and grilled them until tender. Crumbled goat cheese made the next layer, slices of cucumber were laid down for their fresh snap and caramelized onions finished the sandwich with their buttery sweetness. It was all piled on to a grilled roll that had been prepped with a garlic butter. For my money grilling makes the best sandwich bread. You get warm, soft bread with just the right amount of crunch. Some sandwiches benefit from the all-over toasting or methods such as stale bread but for the general sandwich I prefer the grill. I wouldn’t say there was anything special about this effort but it resulted in a tasty, flavorful sandwich. What I am left to consider, then, is the mushrooms.

When I sat down to write this review the first word I thought to describe it was ‘meaty.’ Now this is both a failure of my imagination and a statement about my choice in mushrooms but a quick google search reveals that I have nearly 8 million other people to keep me company, all of us talking about meaty mushrooms. Is this what the mushroom deserves? It seems the mushroom is most often considered as an accent and when it is given a starring role it is cast in contrast to what it is. I ask myself if this sandwich honestly celebrated the mushroom and I am not sure of the answer. And so we make another entry on the list of sandwiches to make; one that savors mushrooms. Mushrooms are a broad category and their nuanced textures and flavors deserve to be highlighted better that they were here. I may have made myself a fine sandwich but I am forced to admit I should have aimed higher.