April 16, 2007
Originally published August 28, 2004
I've raved on numerous occasions about how much I love boiled peanuts and I bought a bunch of fresh green peanuts today. I intend to boil them, freeze them, and take several bags to the Jawja Blogfest.
I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself here. I've gotta cook these babies JUST RIGHT so that the naifs who have never tasted them before get the right impact. Southern people I know will eat boiled peanuts by the bushel and complain about how shittily they were boiled.
"Not enough salt." "Too crunchy." "Didn't soak long enough." "I'm gettin' a lot of pops, too." (A "pop," by the way, is a peanut shell with no nut inside.) But they'll sit right there and eat them, because even a poorly-cooked boiled peanut is better than no boiled peanuts at all. I'll sit right with them and bitch while I eat, too. ("These suck. Taste like got-damn black-eyed peas. Gimme some more.") It's a Southern thang.
But I really feel an obligation to my Southern heritage, my boiled-peanut expertise and my desire to see the South Rise Again to really do this right. I ain't bringing NO shitty boiled peanuts to Helen. I've got converts to recruit, so I'm bringing the very best ammuntion possible. If I fuck these up, I'll just eat them myself and go buy some more and try again until I get it right.
Want some GOOD boiled peanuts? Come to the blogfest.
All content © Rob Smith