PB

My drug of choice is peanut butter. I swear, I get a little rush from the good stuff - all natural cinnamon raisin swirl from the Peanut Butter & Co. in NYC. You've heard me rant before about how rare and expensive peanut butter is in Baku. It's just not something the locals eat. Maybe it's hard to grow peanuts here or maybe the Azeri moms have not yet learned how easy it is to slap together a pb & j sandwich. On a good day at the biggest, most Western grocery store in town, I might be lucky to spot a generic brand for about $7 or a high roller might opt for $10 Skippy. No thank you! I've learned to use my stash sparingly. You know, for a rainy day, when I get the shakes and have to have it.

I was able to smuggle 2 jars from the USA in my suitcase from this last trip home, which should tide me over for exactly 3 weeks. My back-up plan is this homemade pb from the Baku girls' home. All proceeds from the sale of each jar go back to the girls. It comes in two options: sugar-free and with sugar. I like both equally well. It's still relatively expensive, but I don't mind being taken advantage of this time. They know they have a captive market - Americans with a soft heart needing their fix.

When I'm ready to make a deal, I just call up this lady who meets me under a shade tree at the north end of town. She produces the goods and I stealthily pay her. I head home, eager to pop the top and spoon out my hit.