My paternal grandmother was one of the sweetest, most loving people God ever put on this Earth. She didn’t fuss. Didn’t preach. She just went about loving people the way she knew how – quietly, gently, without any need for attention or applause. Her love showed up in small ways, the kind you don’t notice until years later.

Every time she made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she cut the crusts off. She didn’t ask if I wanted them off. She just knew. That soft little square of white bread, with jelly spread all the way to the edge, was her way of saying “I love you” without ever needing to say it. Somewhere in there, without even realizing it, I learned that food could be more than food. It could be care. It could be kindness. It could be love, trimmed neat at the edges.

Most people have a sandwich like that buried somewhere in their memory. Maybe it came out of a brown bag that sat in a warm classroom all morning. Maybe it was packed by a mama who didn’t have time for much else. Maybe it smelled like crayons and banana peels, tucked next to a dented thermos and a note that said, “Eat this and don’t trade with Stan.” That memory hangs on long after the sandwich is gone.

For me, it was peanut butter and jelly. Back then, smooth peanut butter on white bread with strawberry or grape jelly. These days, it’s more grown-up – Loblolly Bakery’s lunchbox loaf, crunchy peanut butter and either homemade peach preserves or a jar of Bonne Maman blackberry, because why not make your nostalgia artisanal?

I’m on a sandwich kick right now. Still on it. But I’m also deep into a Mexican food streak – two cheese enchiladas on flour tortillas with rice and beans from a spot here in town. I’ve had that same plate three times a week for more than a month. That’s how I do things. I get on something and ride it ‘til I burn out. But some things – like sandwiches – I never seem to burn out on.

That streak started early. After kindergarten, I ate lunch most days at the Frostop, a little drive-in here in Hattiesburg. I’d get a small chili cheeseburger with a little paper sack of fries. On the days I didn’t, I’d eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at home. Either way, it was a sandwich. Always has been.

There are people who’ll argue about what makes a sandwich – whether a burger counts, whether a hot dog counts, whether a po’boy counts. I don’t have time for all that. If it has a filling and two sides that keep your fingers from getting messy – it’s a sandwich. Period. End of story.

I love po’boys. Roast beef is my number one – the messier, the better. Extra gravy, falling out the back end, paper soaked clean through. Second place goes to fried shrimp. Some folks try to combine roast beef and seafood. I’ve never understood that. That’s like putting shrimp in a milkshake. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.

These days, the sandwich I go back to the most is the scrambled egg and bacon on an everything Jerusalem bagel at Loblolly Bakery. I had one for breakfast last week and turned around and had another for lunch. I believe that might be what the medical community refers to as a “cry for help.” That bagel gets baked fresh every morning, just like the sourdough. It doesn’t last long – sells out most days – but it’s my favorite.

We’ve started doing sandwich night at home. That wasn’t something we did growing up. Sunday night was breakfast for supper or beanie weenies while we watched The Wonderful World of Disney. These days, it’s sliced ham, roast beef and turkey laid out on the counter. Friends and family build their own like they’re auditioning for a cooking show where no one wins anything except cholesterol.

Mine is always the same: roast beef on untoasted Loblolly sourdough. Blue Plate mayonnaise on one side, Colman’s mustard on the other. Salt, pepper, and Salad Days Bibb lettuce in between. That’s it. It’s very grown-up. Also, very 11-year-old.

That kind of sandwich – nothing fancy, just right – is the kind that stays with you.

The late, great New Orleans restaurant matron Ella Brennan once said, “You know why kids love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? Because peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are good.”

And the ones you remember most were made by someone who loved you enough to cut the crusts off.

Onward.

BEEF TENDERLOIN SANDWICHES WITH THREE SIGNATURE SPREADS

Yield: 24 small sandwiches
Ingredients
For the Tenderloin:
1 (3 pound) whole beef tenderloin, cleaned and trimmed
1 cup Italian dressing (such as Wishbone)
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
2 Tablespoons steak seasoning
2-3 cups wood chips, soaked in water (use up to 5-6 cups for deeper smoke flavor over charcoal)
2 dozen soft slider-style rolls, halved crosswise

Directions
■ Marinate the tenderloin: In a small bowl, whisk together the Italian dressing and Worcestershire sauce. Rub the mixture over the surface of the tenderloin. Cover and marinate for 30 to 45 minutes at room temperature, or up to 2 hours in the refrigerator for deeper flavor.
■ Prepare the grill: Preheat the grill to medium heat. Add the soaked wood chips to the coals or a smoker box if using a gas grill.
■ Grill the tenderloin: Remove the tenderloin from the marinade and pat dry. Season evenly with the steak seasoning. Sear the tenderloin over direct medium heat for 15 minutes, turning one-quarter turn every 4 to 5 minutes to brown evenly.
■ Move the tenderloin to indirect heat. Continue grilling, covered, for 20 to 30 minutes, or until a meat thermometer inserted into the center registers 135 degrees for medium-rare. Turn the tenderloin once every 15 minutes during this stage.
■ Transfer the tenderloin to a cutting board and let rest for 5 to 10 minutes before slicing.
■ To serve: Slice the tenderloin against the grain into 1/8-inch-thick slices. Arrange on a serving platter. Serve with halved rolls and one or more of the spreads below. Allow guests to build their own sandwiches. Serve with Honey-Spiked Dijon Mustard, Horseradish Cream Cheese Spread and Roasted Garlic Mayonnaise.

HONEY-SPIKED DIJON MUSTARD

Yield: About 1 cup

Ingredients
1/2 cup Dijon mustard
2 Tablespoons yellow mustard
1 Tablespoon sour cream
2 Tablespoons mayonnaise
1/4 cup honey
2 teaspoons chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme leaves
1/2 teaspoon hot sauce
1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Directions
■ In a medium bowl, whisk together all ingredients until smooth. For added heat, include a pinch of cayenne pepper. Store covered and refrigerated until ready to serve.

HORSERADISH CREAM CHEESE SPREAD

Yield: About 1 1/4 cups

Ingredients
1/2 cup cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup sour cream
2 Tablespoons mayonnaise
1 teaspoon Creole mustard
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup prepared horseradish (use 1/4 cup for a milder version)
2 Tablespoons minced red onion
1/4 teaspoon minced garlic
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh chives
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Directions
■ In a mixing bowl, whisk together the cream cheese, sour cream, and mayonnaise until smooth. Add remaining ingredients and stir until fully combined. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use.

ROASTED GARLIC MAYONNAISE

Yield: About 1 1/2 cups

Ingredients
2 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 Tablespoons white vinegar
1 Tablespoon lemon juice
1/3 cup roasted garlic purée
1 1/4 cups canola oil
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Directions
■ In a food processor, combine the egg yolks, salt, and mustard. Pulse to combine. In a small bowl, stir together the vinegar and lemon juice. With the processor running, add half the vinegar mixture and the garlic purée. Slowly drizzle in the oil in a thin, steady stream until the mixture emulsifies and thickens. Add the remaining vinegar mixture and the pepper. If the mayonnaise becomes too thick, thin with a small amount of warm water.

Note: This recipe contains raw egg yolks. Use pasteurized eggs if serving to high-risk groups.

Robert St. John is a restaurateur, author, enthusiastic traveler, and world-class eater from Hattiesburg, Mississippi. He has spent four decades in the restaurant industry, written 13 books, and written a syndicated newspaper column for more than 24 years. Read more about Robert at robertstjohn.com.