The Elvis Sandwich

July 2021. Memphis summer, 62 years old, and the heat wraps around Orange Mound like a wet blanket that nobody asked for but everybody wears because that is the deal you make when you live in the South. The smoker calls louder in summer — something about the heat amplifying the smoke, the way humidity amplifies everything in Memphis — and I answer, because answering is what pitmasters do.

Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 37 years of marriage. Walter Jr. came by with the grandchildren, bringing the noise and energy that grandchildren bring, the house expanding to hold them the way a good pot expands to hold a good stew.

Smoked turkey wings this week — big, meaty, brined and rubbed and smoked at 275 for three hours until the skin crackled and the meat pulled clean. Turkey wings are the working class of BBQ: cheap, underrated, and transformed by smoke into something extraordinary. Uncle Clyde served them on Fridays at his stand, and I serve them on Saturdays in my backyard, and the tradition bridges the gap between then and now.

Sunday at Mt. Zion, the choir sang and I sat in my pew and let the music hold me. The bass notes I used to add are quieter now — my voice is aging, the way everything ages — but the listening is its own participation, and the church holds me the way the church has held this community for a hundred years: faithfully, unconditionally, with room for everyone who shows up. I show up. That is enough.

Turkey wings and smoke and Sunday choir — that’s the heavy, sacred kind of cooking, the kind that takes hours and patience and belongs to the whole neighborhood. But after Walter Jr. took the grandchildren home and Rosetta and I settled back into the quiet, what I wanted was something simple and Memphis to the bone. The Elvis Sandwich is exactly that: peanut butter and banana and bacon pressed together in a buttered skillet, the kind of thing the King himself ate because sometimes genius is just knowing what tastes right. Orange Mound born, Memphis proud — this one’s for a Saturday afternoon when the smoker can rest and the pan does the talking.

Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 1

Ingredients

2 slices thick white sandwich bread
3 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
1 ripe banana, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
2 strips bacon
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon honey (optional, for drizzling)

Instructions

Cook the bacon. In a skillet over medium heat, cook the bacon strips until crispy, about 4–5 minutes per side. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate and let cool slightly, then break each strip in half.
Build the sandwich. Spread peanut butter evenly across both slices of bread all the way to the edges. Layer the banana slices in a single, overlapping row on one slice, then lay the bacon pieces on top. If using honey, drizzle it lightly over the banana. Press the second slice of bread on top, peanut-butter side down.
Griddle until golden. Wipe out the skillet and return it to medium-low heat. Add the butter and swirl to coat. When the butter foams and subsides, place the sandwich in the pan. Cook 2–3 minutes until the underside is deep golden brown, pressing gently with a spatula. Flip carefully and cook another 2 minutes until the second side matches.
Rest and slice. Transfer the sandwich to a cutting board and let it rest for 1 minute so the peanut butter settles. Slice diagonally and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

The Elvis Sandwich — A Little Memphis Soul Between Two Slices of Bread