Southern Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving!

For Thanksgiving this year we went to Georgia with my entire family to visit Grandma, Aunt Bernice and the millions of aunts, uncles, and cousins still living out there. This is a picture with Bertie, Brooke, Cami and Grandma. It was pretty special since I haven't been back for at least 2 years. We had such a wonderful time. Grandma and Bertie literally stuffed us with every good food imaginable, every second of the day -- it was a dream come true! One night we got Bertie to play a game of Hearts with us and I think Trav about died with all the things that came out of her mouth. I think it's pretty clear now where my competitive nature comes from. After passing her a couple of particularly rotten cards one hand, she turned to me and said "Michelle," (insert really heavy accent) "I wouldn't do that to a dog." Hilarious.


The day after Thanksgiving, we decided to drive around looking for that specialty of the South: Boiled Peanuts. We couldn't find an open stand, but here are a couple of pictures of what the typical roadside stand looks like. Notice the sign: "Bold Pnut." For those of you unfamiliar with this tradition, let me explain.
An old man, typically wearing overalls or coveralls (depending on the season) with a ball-cap perched on top of his head will be keeping watch over a 50-gallon metal barrel positioned precariously over a roaring fire. Piles of wood can be seen stacked nearby, all ready to keep the fire going. The barrel itself is where the magic happens. Into the barrel goes a precise mixture of water, peanuts (still in the shell), and a TON of salt. This is left to boil all day, resulting in peanuts so soft they literally fall apart in your mouth. When you stop to purchase some of these perfect little guys, the grandpa will slowly stop talking with whatever buddy/kin currently passing the time with him and ask you about your own grandpa and various other family members you can only vaguely remember. In anticipation you watch as he uses an old coffee can with holes punched in the bottom and nailed to a stick to dip out a bucketful of peanuts. He lets them drain off for a bit and then dumps them into either a paper sack or plastic produce bag. As you walk back to your car with a silly sort of grin on your face, you pop one of the first peanuts into your mouth. There is a proper procedure for consuming the peanuts as well. First, suck off all the salt water - mixed with the great peanut flavor, then open the shell and eat the softened nuts, but not the shell. Pure heaven and a years worth of sodium.
I think this has to be one of the greatest treasures of the South, which sadly is starting to die out with all the old grandpas that used to sell them. One of my favorite childhood memories was stopping at one of these stands with my Grandpa & Granny and having an entire bag to eat by myself.