The Cost of Nostalgia

Every Christmas my grandpa would make a large batch of peanut brittle and bring it for Christmas. Now my grandpa was not a chef or a cook in any sense of the word but he made the best peanut brittle. I remember how much we would look forward to this gift every year.

I lost my grandpa when I was in eighth grade. There was no peanut brittle after that and I hadn’t thought of it in years. This Christmas as I was browsing through my local stores looking for Christmas gifts I came across some peanut brittle in this cute little bakery that was serving up all kinds of nostalgia with bake goods of bygone years.

I broke out in a smile, no doubt looking a little on the mad side, as all those memories started flooding back to me as I remembered how much we enjoyed that peanut brittle. I had them wrap me up a box to take home to share with the family.

Late in the afternoon after brunch dishes were cleared, gifts were opened while sitting amid a pile of discarded cardboard and wrapping paper I passed around the box of peanut brittle and shared my memories with my kids.

We were all eager to try a piece and as we bite into it we all looked around and started laughing. Apparently peanut brittle isn’t as good as I remembered it. As everybody else discarded the remainder of their brittle. I shook my head in defiance, I would not be defeated. I had loved this stuff as a child. So, I took another bite and that is when I heard it. The undeniable crack of a back molar giving way to sweet confection.

A trip to the dentist and then the endodontist told me what I already suspected, an emergency root canal. I’m out of commission for a few days as I will not be eating anything other than smoothies, applesauce, and the occasional yogurt here and there.

Instead of the usual recipes, I thought I would share a few stories, outdoorable moments, and other bits and pieces as the choppers mend.

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Author: Ella

Just a girl who loves to cook farm-to-fork foods living the dream!

15 thoughts

  1. Oh dear! Such a sweet memory and I had to laugh when you all realised this was not so tasty (I’m thinking it was a far cry from your grandpa’s).
    I am so sorry about your tooth! That is no fun at all. Mend quickly and hey, I’m more than good with stories like these (minus any bodily injury, of course)

    1. It’s funny how you can push memories away until a smell or a piece of food brings it all back. He was a gruff almost hard man, but Christmas brought out his sweet side. No pun intended. I’m glad your down for the stories. A bit out of my comfort zone but it’s fun to branch out a bit.

      1. So true. The sense of smell is sooo strong. After my son died, I had no idea my husband would grab his clothes that were on the floor in a pile (took me a month to wash them) and smell them. He gave me so much shit when I washed them. I felt so bad.
        I am very down with your stories… Bust past that comfort zone!

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