Elvis was on to something. I know, I know, music, hip shaking, etc. But really he was on to something when he ordered his cook (who in my mind is a big black woman who knew her way around a southern boys kitchen) to prepare him a sandwich that would stick to his bones...and arteries...and shoot up his cholesteral. Anyway, I stopped at this place today and had the Elvis, literally! As I had an hour to kill after yet another trip to the financial aid office, I wandered around the village looking for Peanut Butter and Company because I was determined to eat there...you see, I forgot my map and the address so wander is really the right word here. Anyway, I found it and settled in for an Elvis--peanut butter, bananas and honey, fried to golden perfection--served with potato chips and crunchy carrot sticks (which I ate for dessert) and a tall glass of ice cold milk. I t was, as I had imagined it would be, a fabulous dinner. So I repeat, Elvis was really on to something. And so are the guys at Peanut Butter and Company.