Let’s face it. A spoon isn’t so much a thing you put peanut butter on as a thing that has an optimized method of getting as much peanut butter as possible in your face. That is what a spoon is great for.
There are a few problems with the spoon of course; it comes with no other textures or edible portions that make the action of consuming peanut butter any easier. I would say there is a framework for explaining just exactly how awesome something is to peanut butter: based on complementary flavors, ease of eating, maximization of peanut butter consumption, fulfillment and creativity.
A spoon has no complementary flavors, unless you count the rare occurrence of metallic tang when eating off it. While this doesn’t result in the sublime simplicity and supremely mixed flavor of a peanut butter cup, it does allow the pure sensation of peanut buttering your tongue. With a spoon all you get is unadulterated extra crunchy, creamy, JIF, natural, better than butter taste.
There is no easier way to start to eat peanut butter than with a spoon. Open jar, dip spoon, insert into mouth. This is where the complications begin. Depending on the state of your mouth it can become immediately impossible to chew, swallow, or do anything with the peanut butter currently occupying your mouth. The spoon doesn’t care, its job is done.
If peanut butter is the fulfillment you crave: the spoon is the tool. If hunger is stopping you from leading a fulfilled life: the spoon maximizes the amount of the ultimate nutty hunger stopper in your mouth.
The ultimate measure of creativity is the thing that once it is made anyone looks and says: I could have thought of that, but they didn’t. Immediately understood, and universal in appeal, the spoon is one of a class of items that is highly creative in genesis and lacking creativity from the moment of inception onward.
Go peanut butter a spoon.