Have you ever picked the peanut pieces out of chunky peanut butter with chopsticks? Meticulously, delicately, carefully, assuredly. The obsession with this act often begins with a knife, then a fork, until, ever wiser in the art of peanut-picking, you find the perfect tool to sift, flip, and prod: the chopstick. Or to be specific, two. An inexplicable pleasure is derived from a clumpy pile of five or six peanut pieces on the sticks. There is something about the act of diving those stiff pointy stick ends into a large beckoning tub of soft butter, churning it in swirls, flipping and folding and pressing clumps into each other as I search underneath, prowling around for the area of highest chunk to cream ratio.