The Taste of Christmas: Memories and Peanut Brittle Tutorial

I don’t know if it is the glow of the Christmas tree, the sound of old man winter knocking at the door, or the vivid reminder of my savior’s birth, but during these few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas I have developed a really sharp memory. Maybe, I should say memories. I don’t want to be misunderstood, I didn’t fall into a vat of tinsel and develop a holiday super power. I certainly can’t recall my gift giving to-do list without a great app or even remember what is inside that package I just wrapped. I’m talking about memories. The past.  Some memories come as a faint recollection of a time or a place, but these memories I’m talking about are powered by sugar. They are short and vivid like a six second looping video on Vine.

Arma, Kansas Christmas 2011. photo credit: Randy VanLeeuwen

A child’s reality, as related to their memories, is somewhat unreliable.  For example, I thought that anyone who lived in a 1960’s ranch style home was rich. Life and experience has taught me that those 3 bedroom 1.5 bath dwellers weren’t really wealthy; they just weren’t as poor as many other people I knew.  I say this so that you understand that my memories, my real life historical Vine, may be flawed.  Some details forgotten while others were merged with memories from a different time and place. This disclosure is important, because what I’m about to tell you is that I was raised in the quintessential holiday hometown: Arma, Kansas.

Every December the telephone poles lining East Washington street became animated with colored lights and the sparkling tinsel of Christmas. On each pole were trees, angels, and even a large candlestick lit with the fanfare of the season.   A large garland hung across the intersection in the center of town and as lay in the small space beneath the rear glass of my parents car window peering up at the night sky I  was transformed into a giant who carried the cantilevered candlestick while wearing in a scrooge inspired night shirt and stocking cap complete with a pompom at the tip.   I was brought back to reality when we arrived at the grocery store.  The aroma of fresh baked Italian bread and bread sticks from the Arma Bakery filled the air in the isle as we walked towards the meat counter.  While my mother waited for her pork chops to be carefully wrapped in white paper and sealed with a yellow sticker I looked, in both amazement and disgust, at the oddities that were in the rear of the store. Pickled eggs.  Liver cheese. Pig ears. Pig feet.

The disgusting display at the meat counter should have left me without an appetite, but that was not the case.  Instead I couldn’t believe my eyes when we got to the cash register.  It was a cornucopia of sugary goodness: chocolate covered peanut clusters, french cookies, peanut brittle, and some strange looking pink, white, and green creme filled candies.   I had to stand there, with these amazing goodies just within reach while we waited in line. I looked at my feet. I looked at the cigarette display that shared a wall with the office. Although I had been warned about asking for “anything” before we entered  I began to beg my mom for just one sweet morsel! The answer came as a resounding, “NO.” I hung my head in defeat as we walked towards the door. An older gentleman held the door for us, tipped  his hat, and wished us a Merry Christmas.  Okay, fine.  There was no hat and no gentleman,  but we did leave the grocery store.  We were in a hurry, because tonight was the night we would get to sit on Santa’s lap!

By the time we ate dinner and went to City Hall, where Santa always made his appearance, the line was enormous!  It wound out the door and into the parking lot. I bobbed, weaved, and peeked toward the front of the line hoping to catch just a glimpse of old St. Nick and also to weigh the odds of whether or not they would run out of goody bags before we made it to the front of the line. If only one day mattered all year it was this day.  After careful inspection of the Christmas catalog I decided what I wanted and now all I had to do was tell Santa exactly what it was.

I became more excited with every step forward and before I knew it I was there. Sitting in silence on Santa’s lap. I did muster the courage to nod my head at his questions and eventually reach out and grab my bag of treats as I was ushered toward the door. What a disappointment! I had choked! I didn’t tell Santa what I wanted and I was fairly certain that I just agreed to a dolly beneath the tree on Christmas morning.  I took that short walk of shame outside and resignedly opened my bag.  The bag was a small brown lunch sack with the top folded over was and quite heavy for it’s size.   I was not impressed with the first thing I found inside: an orange. I continued to survey my cache of goodies that were contained inside the sack and found an array of hard candies.  Some had red stripes, some were green, some were shaped like tiny pillows and others were curled ribbons of sugar, but there amid the candy was a single piece of peanut brittle. My night was a success even if I had failed to recite my Christmas wish to Santa and as we drove home I looked out the window at the twinkling of lights on trees in every window and sleepily drew in the sweet flavor of the spirit of Christmas from my hometown.

Arma, Kansas Christmas 2011. photo credit: Randy VanLeeuwen

My childhood memories aren’t the ideal setting for a top 10 Christmas movie, but it was the ideal setting of my life and many other kids’ lives who grew up in small town, U.S.A. I would love to hear some of your Christmas memories!  I still continue some of the traditions from my childhood.  I make french cookies and peanut brittle during the holiday season to remind me of home and sometimes I even eat an orange.  It took me a while to figure out how to make great peanut brittle and I want to share it with you, because I think these holiday recipes and traditions are being forgotten.Below is the shopping list and a detailed how to video for making peanut brittle.  This is my first video, so please be kind.  The orientation isn’t consistent and I use adjectives such as wonderful, amazing, beautiful, and delicious quite redundantly, but overall it definitely could have been a lot worse.

Old Fashioned Peanut Brittle

2 cups raw peanuts

1/2 cup water

2 cups sugar

1 cup light corn syrup

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp vanilla

2 TBL oleo/margarine/ vegetable spread

All of the instruction is contained in the video.  Those cute little glazed finger bowls were made at Phoenix Fired Art in Joplin Mo.