It was 2:30 in the afternoon on a clear crisp fall day. It took me about 10 minutes to walk home from school or 15 if I rode big yellow. By the time everyone loaded up, I could be halfway home on foot. In my mind, I could smell those freshly roasted peanuts long before I reached home.
Mama had never worked outside the home until I was 15 years old. She didn’t have a home-cooked treat waiting on me every afternoon, but quite often. If she could keep me from eating them all up on the first day, she wouldn’t have to cook anything new for a few days. Sometimes she baked a pan of homemade teacakes. Sometimes it was something as simple as a baked sweet potato. Even if those were cold ones left from lunch, they were almost as delicious to me as a bowl of ice cream…almost. On special occasions, she might bake a cake or a make a pie.
When she had roasted a big pan full of peanuts that tongue-tempting aroma entered my nostrils before I reached the top step of our front porch. We raised our own. You may have read about Mama’s 100-acre garden. One corner, with several rows, was reserved for peanuts. I was always excited when we pulled up those plants, and I saw all those pods of peanuts dangling below. I also knew we would have to put them in the shed and let them dry out for a few weeks before I could make myself sick on a belly full of peanuts. That first batch smelled so good roasting in Mama’s oven.
I grew up in the northern end of Alabama. I learned early on that we are a state divided, but not just between north and south. Some holler Roll Tide and others War Eagle, but I also learned that we were divided over the matter of peanuts, too. Some prefer roasted and some prefer boiled. We roasted ours. Mama referred to them as parched peanuts. Just spread them out, still in the shell, on a flat pan and roast them for about 30-45 minutes. Mama didn’t, but I have eaten some since that had been soaked in salty water and then roasted. Either way, roasted or boiled, I can put a dent in the peanut population.
I had never had peanuts any way other than roasted until I was old enough to vote. Actually, I was a seminary student. That’s when I discovered that part of our great state boils instead of roasting. I believe this started in the southern end of the state and was much more popular in L.A. (Lower Alabama) than in my end of the state. I guess like the armadillos came from the south and migrated north, so did boiled peanuts…but not without help.
My first boiled peanut didn’t happen in Alabama, south or north, but in Louisiana. I sat down at a table with one of my professors and he offered me some peanuts. He was a native of Alabama…the southern end. His peanuts were wet. I liked them, but I remember thinking they tasted more like peas than they did nuts. My world was really shaken when I learned that peanuts are not actually nuts. They are legumes. I think that is a double-first cousin to peas and beans.
So, what kind of nut are you…I meant to say which one do you prefer…boiled or roasted? Let’s make a deal. If you prefer them boiled, you call them peas, but if you prefer them roasted, you call them nuts. Either way, I’m nuts about peanuts and glad God created them.
Bill King can be reached at bkpreach@yahoo.com.
