May is a time when I think about Mom a lot, as May 1 is her birthday and Mother's Day follows hard upon it. She's never far from my thoughts in any case, but in May she feels especially close, and I keep seeing things that remind me of her.
The other day I walked into Hannaford and saw a big display of bags of jumbo peanuts in the shell. Mom loved peanuts in the shell, and used to keep a stash in her nightstand (which, as small children, my twin sister and I would often help ourselves to, something I still feel guilty about).
So, thinking of Mom, I bought a bag of peanuts, and they're just as good as they were when I was a kid -- except they make a ridiculous, unbelievable, Godawful mess. I'm used to seeing this at ballparks and in crummy bars; I'm not used to seeing it in my living room, and am about to pull out the vacuum cleaner. (Sorry, Dizzy -- he hates the vacuum.)
Mom used to eat peanuts in bed, and I don't remember seeing peanut litter around her bed or nightstand. How did she manage this, particularly in the days before Dustbusters?
It's one of so many things I wish I could ask her, and one of so many ways I still think of her as magic.
2 comments:
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't allow anonymous comments on this blog. If you care to comment, please sign your name.
She ate the shells.
Most of the salt in salted peanuts is on the shell (they soak peanuts in brine, then roast them to dry them out). So while peanut shells normally have little flavor on their own (and are basically indigestible fiber [cellulose]), they might not taste so bad when covered in salt.
I'm eating peanuts in the shells right now. I can't decide if I like it better this way or not, but the salt definitely builds up faster and makes you want to stop eating faster, and bulk fiber is something our fast food society tends to lack.
Post a Comment