Boiled Peanuts
W in the actual H?
The peanut might be the perfect food.
It is high in protein.
Its fat is unsaturated, which is the kind of healthy fat your body needs.
It’s tasty.
Its oil gives a wonderful flavor to anything cooked in it (have you tried popcorn popped in peanut oil? Ambrosia!).
Salted and in the shell, it makes a snack that involves your hands, so cracking and eating them slows down consumption. Didn’t your mother always admonish you “Don’t inhale your food!”?
Peanuts can be processed into a sumptuous slurry that, combined with jam, makes a smashing sammich.
The ONE thing, in my opinion, you should avoid with peanuts? BOILING THEM.
Unless you were born somewhere from North Carolina, south and west through Georgia into Alabama and Mississippi, I know of NO ONE who enjoys separating a super-heated soaked cardboard-like shell from a gelatinous piece of glop with your fingers, then choking as it slithers down your throat like an oversized ball of snot.
Quite a pic, eh? Obviously you can tell I was born in the upper Midwest.
Look, earlier I confessed my Peanut-Passion. But like any life-long love, aren’t there times when that object of your obsession looks less than fetching, in, oh, say, a bad hairdo? Or an unflattering outfit?
Well, I call out the object of my affection, the peanut, when it presents itself to me boiled within an inch of its life, unceremoniously dumped into a paper bag, then hawked like last year’s cheesy Dukes of Hazzard butane lighters at the checkout of some corner gas station.
It also puzzles me when you pull over at a Southern gas station, a tobacco-beer shop or fruit stand, and bump into the ever present steaming cauldron, next to which is a hastily scrawled sign proclaiming “World’s Best Boiled Peanuts!” – especially if the ‘w’ is written backwards.
Excuse me? Let’s take a closer look at this.
Water in the pan. Peanuts in the water. Heat the water. Dump ‘em in a bag.
Wow, Bobby Flay ain’t got shee-it on you, Newt. Serious.
Maybe that’s why even Southern Living and Taste of Southern Magazines offer recipes for boiled peanuts. Why? You got me, Newt.
So before I completely turn your tummy forever against Boiled (or Bowled, as you’ll hear down here) Peanuts, a few facts.
First, if you’re masochistic enough to fancy the feeling of boiled snot sliding down your gullet, make sure you use green, or raw, peanuts – fully mature nuts are verboten. Also, Valencia type peanuts are recommended.
Second – who the HELL discovered the snot fetish and then ACTED on it?
For those of us who prefer our peanuts plated as Jiff with strawberry jam on your favorite bread (especially Wonder Bread – ‘builds strong bodies 12 ways!’), we’re frankly puzzled anyone would proudly claim that designation. But there it is.
A lot of Southerners blame Georgia’s ever-present boogeyman, William Tecumseh Sherman. He and his troops laid waste to Georgia’s midsection on their race to the Atlantic from Atlanta, burning and pillaging, not only leaving very little in the way of crops or livestock in the fall of 1864, they even unplugged all the stop lights and put in traffic roundabouts. Myth claims resourceful survivors turned to boiling peanuts for their sustenance until they could get CARE packages from the U.N.
The National Peanut Board (yes, there IS such a thing) claims enslaved Africans brought peanuts to America in colonial days, along with the unique preparation.
Others point out peanuts were in South America before arriving in North America.
Still others point to a long history of peanuts in Asia. I mean – peanut chicken without peanuts is just…well…chicken.
With the exception of claims of the first group, I think the rest are somewhat tied together.
We’re just now finding Asian influence in the western Americas at least a few hundred years before The Queen of Spain gave Chris Columbus a few shekels to sail west to Hispaniola in search of gold bars and really hot Caribe chicks.
Chances are those Asians brought peanuts with them, where they caught on in South America. Years later, European explorers like Amerigo Vespucci, Francisco Pizarro and Vasco Balboa, if they were lucky enough to make it back home took home new commodities like peanuts, MS-13 gang signs, and Tito Puente records.
On the way home, these explorers made a pit stop in western Africa, which they looked at as kind of a Luvs Truck Stop. They topped off their tanks and stole some natives as curiosities for their kings and queens, and then headed home, where their wives swung rolling pins and demanded, “Where the hell have you been? You promised you’d be home ten years ago!”
Seriously, West Africa most likely began growing peanuts as a result of explorers from South America. The peanut THEN made its way aboard slave ships to North America.
An insanely circuitous route for the humble legume, I admit, but it also explains how peanuts have been found in recipes in Asia, while boiled peanuts are to this day very popular street food in both South America and West Africa.
While boiled peanuts were undoubtedly enjoyed throughout the American South for years (since peanuts were best boiled green, they were a favorite during fall harvest time, and peanut boils actually became a social event), boiled peanuts gained fashionable popularity in the early 20th century as an exotic menu item at fashionable weddings.
I ain’t kiddin’. That might be the weirdest fact of all in this mischievous missive.
Of course, snotty 21st Century chefs with irritating haircuts and full ink sleeves couldn’t just leave them alone. In larger Southern cities you’ll find peanuts boiled in bourbon on snooty overpriced eatery menus.
A rotten shame of a waste of good hooch. Damn kids these days – don’t you get me started…
Even the term “peanut” wasn’t settled on in America until the late 19th century. Before then, they were called everything from ground nuts or peas, pindars, to goobers.
We’ve all heard of the term Goober – after all, the Goober in Goobers and Raisinettes refer to peanuts. And of course, Goober refers to the tiny, less-than-developed brain in the late George Lindsey’s noggin.
Judy-Judy-Judy.
Truth is, the word Goober is actually from the Angolan word “Nguba”.
Sorry, guys. I really digressed.
Don’t take it from me – on your next sojourn through Dixie, eschew the interstates and take some back roads.
Pick up yourself a bag of boiled peanuts. Then you decide.
I’d be very interested to hear what you have to say.
Oh, and DO NOT forget…
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