This Elvis Sandwich Would've Been Fit for the King

You've never seen a peanut butter sandwich with moves like this.
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Photo by Chelsea Kyle, Prop Styling by Erin Lark Gray, Food Styling by Olivia Mack Anderson

In addition to being a cornerstone of American rock and roll, the creator of 30 top ten hits, and a tragic character in the most famous fable of celebrity, Elvis Presley was also a beast in the culinary world—especially when it came to midnight snacks.

There's his ultimate pound cake. Then there's his six-tier wedding cake that cost the same as a Chevrolet. There’s his last meal: four ice cream scoops and six chocolate chip cookies. There’s that woman in the East Village that bakes a chocolate cornbread twice a year to conjure his departed spirit.

And of course, there’s the most over-the-top late-night sandwich run of all time.

On February 1st, 1976, while Elvis entertained some friends at Graceland, a sandwich of mythical status—titled the Fool's Gold—came up in conversation. The sandwich, a novelty item at Denver’s Colorado Mine Company restaurant, was truly King-sized: an entire loaf of bread hollowed out and filled with peanut butter, fruit preserves, bananas, and bacon.

The King wanted the sandwich, and he wanted it immediately. So in a truly rock star-sized whim, he and his friends boarded his private jet, the Lisa Marie, and made the thousand-mile trek to Denver. All in all, this midnight junk food run cost today’s equivalent of $16,000. More importantly, the episode forever linked Presley's name to the peanut butter/banana/bacon sandwich, raising that particular ingredient combination's profile and inspiring thousands of hungry kids—including me—to eat like the King.

Or maybe even better than the King.

Stay with me now. I may not have Elvis's money, or fame, or private personal jet. But I do have his ambition. So instead of using bland white bread for my Elvis sandwich, I do one better. I use slices of banana bread for maximum banana flavor. Then I fry the sandwich in reserved bacon fat for ultimate crispiness. Finally, I drizzle honey over the whole thing because...well, because I'm the king of this sandwich, and I can.

"Love me tender, love me sweet."

Photo by Chelsea Kyle, Prop Styling by Erin Lark Gray, Food Styling by Olivia Mack Anderson

If Elvis were alive (come at me, conspiracy theorists), I'd make him this sandwich during a late night jam session. This is how it's go down:

Cook 2 slices thick-cut bacon in a large heavy skillet over medium heat, turning occasionally, until browned and crisp, 8–10 minutes. Transfer bacon to a paper towel-lined plate and spoon off all but 1 Tbsp. bacon fat. Meanwhile, place 2 slices of Our Favorite Banana Bread on a work surface. Spread each with 1 Tbsp. creamy peanut butter. Top 1 slice with 1/2 banana, sliced, 1 tsp. honey, and bacon, then close with the second slice. Heat reserved bacon fat in skillet over medium-low. Transfer sandwich to skillet, cover, and cook until bottom is golden, about 2 minutes. Flip sandwich, cover, and cook until golden, about 2 minutes more. Cut into quarters before serving.

A note on how to eat this: Elvis ate his sandwiches with a knife and fork at all hours, but with all due respect to his highness, I don't think you can do this sandwich justice that way. The Elvis sandwich is meant to be eaten with abandon, whether during a late-night munchies session or a late-morning meal to offset the night's shenanigans. So get messy with it. Don't worry—the King's not watching.