06 November 2011

I'm a Nut, Ha Ha

Make fun if you will, but one thing I always loved about going to my grandmother's house as a child was her basket of unshelled nuts.  I didn't really understand that each type of shell contained a specific type of nut- to me, each time I sloppily cracked one open with her shiny silver nutcracker was like unwrapping a Christmas present.  What could be inside  


I mostly forgot about grandma and her nuts (see what I did there?), and I think it's because I've never seen bulk unshelled nuts in any of my local grocery stores.  Always shelled.

Last weekend, Mr. Peaches and I went shopping at our local fancy grocery, the one that is a slightly longer drive than going to the store near us, but the rewards in the gourmet cheese section are great.  As I picked up a pack of shelled walnuts I keep on hand for cooking, I told Mr. P about my grandma's nuts (it doesn't get old) and how I wanted to be one of those couples who always have unshelled nuts and a nutcracker around.  Classy.  Fun.  Totally normal for twenty-somethings.  Or something.

Today we went back to that fancy grocery, on account of the cheese, and there,  right in the middle of the produce section was a huge display of a variety of unshelled nuts.  And in the middle of that glorious display were the shiny silver nutcrackers.  It's like they're listening!


I didn't hem and haw too long before breaking down and picking up two pounds worth, as well as my very first nutcracker.  Finally- we're classy! fun! normal!



We got home and I put away the groceries, saving the nuts for last.  I scoured the house for a cute basket or bowl in which to put them, and finally found a basket leftover from the wedding.  I poured the nuts into the basket- it's just the right size!  It contains two pounds of various unshelled nuts perfectly.  Then I checked around for our first nutcracker... which, apparently, was no where to be found.

I looked in the bags I stuffed away- nope.  I looked in the trunk of the car- nope.  I looked on the floor, on the table, on the counter, and on the stove- nope, nope, nope, and nope.

I have a basket of nuts and no nutcracker.  Not classy.  Not fun.  Not normal.

This is how we're gettin' by until we can stop back by the store:



And that's what I get for trying to be like my crazy old grandma.

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