Behold the Vegan Fluffernutter

With a fridge-full of Sweet and Sara vanilla marshmallows anxiously awaiting an adventure, I decided to attempt a fluffernutter.

Sadly, I grew up in a house without marshmallow fluff.  My mother (nee, vegetarian Mom) grew up with it as a staple in her family's fridge and she "never liked the thought of it": dismissing it without ever having tried it.  By the time I was old enough to buy a jar myself I had already figured out that it probably wasn't animal friendly.  Fast forward decades and here I was, about to embark on my first fluffernutter.

After I'd gathered all of the ingredients it occurred to me that I might not really like the peanut butter and marshmallow combo; just because you like things separate doesn't always mean you'll like them together.  So, I conducted a very serious taste test in which a humongoid glob of peanut butter topped a marshie like a cowboy hat.  The results were happily delicious inconclusive.

The second taste test involved a significantly more punk peanut butter cap, and thankfully confirmed that the combo was legit.

Then I begin to wonder if the addition of the bread was going to be the wild card that would ruin the whole thing.  Since I didn't want to waste a sandwich-full of marshies, I created a mini-fluffernutter prototype.  Thumbs up.

By this point it had been sufficiently established that the wonder of the peanut butter/marshmallow combo was incorruptible, so I had some fun making a Double Down inspired fluffernutter: sandwiching a marshie bit between peanut halves.

And then it was time to be serious and start assembling the sandwich.  I toasted one slice of Dave's Killer bread, allowed it to cool, and applied a ridiculously thick layer of peanut butter. 

Then I carefully assembled my marshmallows atop the second piece of bread so that every bite would be sufficiently mallow-fied.  Please note that they are oddly shaped because they are the discounted marshmallows that are intended for use in (presumably more high-brow) recipes.

Finally, it was time to toast the marshmallow half of the sandwich: s'mores style (don't ask me WHY it didn't occur to me to add chocolate chips until now).

My friend peanut-butter-sandwich-half and I watched as the marshies became visibly toasty.

A vision: open-faced fluffernutter, pre-assembly (yes, that's extra PB for dipping on the side). 

Assembled side-view.  While the marshies retained their shape, they were nice and melty.

 Interior.

Mid-munch:

In conclusion, the fluffernutter was stupendous and definitely worth the wait.  For any of you wary of the combo, I can tell you that a mouthful of the medley becomes much more than just a sum of it's parts.  The reason it is called a fluffernutter and not simply a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich is because, when the ingredients are combined, it truly becomes something else entirely.  Each bite of the sandwich has the similar thrill of a chocolate-covered pretzel: something delicious and salty enhanced by additional, yummy sweetness.  Definitely the kind of thing that you are going to want a lot of: often.

Bonus
The previous fluff eschewer (aka V.M.) vehemently resisted... and then ultimately LOVED the sandwich as well.  You can learn a lot from your kid.