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.