Those were the ingredients of my two favorite sandwiches when I was a boy and freshfaced.

 The sheer luxury of a sugar-and-butter sandwich!  A thick layer of butter and a layer of sugar between two slices of white bread.

 That's where the saying came from of course (the best thing since sliced bread).  You didn't have to make it yourself, what a luxury, and each slice was perfect and beautiful and it tasted better than home-made, light and fresh, and didn't go stale as fast, and on and on.

So anyway slather that butter on one slice, sprinkle heavily with granulated sugar, slap the other slice on top of it all (maybe buttered too if you were feeling self-indulgent).  All the nutritional energy a growing boy needs.  Fat and carbohydrates.

Salted butter of course.  Unsalted butter was unknown.

 Or if I was craving less desserty sweetness, a heartier gustation, there was the reliable and simple mayonnaise sandwich.  A slice of white bread layered thick with mayonnaise and put together with another slice.  Mm mm.  You could taste the starch turning into sugar in your mouth, working a magical spell on the creamy and slightly salty slide of the mayonnaise.

 Took the edge off, for sure.

And mayonnaise, not Miracle Whip, okay?  For crying out loud.  My mother used to pretend there was no essential difference.  Anything in the pearly offwhite mucousy class of condiments, I guess.  I'm quite sure she tried this con because of relative price.  I admire the effort.

But Mirkle Wipe as it will forever after be to me because of the pronunciation of a stepdaughter, Mirkle Wipe was vinegary, tart, tongue-puckering.  Mayonnaise was mild with a stately and (slightly salty) but inevitable progress.  Mirkle wipe was slash and burn.