December 1st, 2010
Posted in News

Freshly Made JoMart Peanut Brittle
It’s tough being a peanut these days. Be they from Virginia or Spain, China or South Africa (where most Spanish peanuts come from) , they get no respect. Granted there are many people who have peanut allergies (less than 1% of the population) . What about the rest of us, peanut butter sandwiches, chocolate covered peanuts, peanut brittle, and good old roasted salted peanuts.
Growing up in the candy business, peanuts have always been present. We buy our peanuts from Bazzini Nuts. There is nothing (OK almost nothing) like opening a case of freshly roasted AA peanuts and just smelling them, and then of course snacking on 1 or 2 (per minute). I Love Peanuts.
Peanut Brittle is the first thing I ever cooked by myself at JoMart. My dad watched as I weighed off the batch-the recipe is an algebraic formula. Waited as I lit the stove-no pilot light, you have to light a match, lay it in the open fire stove, turn on the gas and move away quick enough lest you singe all the hair on the arms, face and head. We chatted as I started cooking and then he left. Prior to this batch, I must have watched him make 500 batches of peanut brittle. But I was alone, my dad did not believe in cooking with a thermometer, you had to use all of your senses to determine when the batch was done.
15 minutes later, the batch is boiling like crazy, my mind is blank, when do I add the raw spanish peanuts?, what about the butter?, think Michael think. Finally I added the peanuts-duh, they are raw, they have to get roasted at some point. Now I am freaking out, how will I know when the batch is done? “Dad, I could use some help-NOW”. A couple of minutes later, he comes in smiling. I am in a full panic, “When is it done?”, he calmly answers, “you’ll know”-and again he walks away.
So there I am, stirring the copper kettle, with my wooden paddle, watching the peanut brittle bubbling away. I dodge an occasional splash, and I am trying to remember when the hell this witches brew will be done. All of sudden I am surrounded by an incredible smell-roasting peanuts. All the memories come together-you can smell when the brittle is done! As I continue looking at the batch , I can see it all, the color is not nearly golden enough, the consistency is a little thin, the peanut smell is good, but not strong enough. A couple of minutes later, as I am adding the unsalted butter, dad walks in smiling. “Is it done?” It certainly was.
Decades later, I still cook the peanut brittle (and almond, cashew, macadamia nut) in the same kettle, on the same stove. I cook but at the same time, I might read the Times op-ed, answer a phone call or even check an email. But I look, listen (the raw nuts start to crackle while they roast) and always always wait for the smell, and think about my dad. He died a little over 4 years ago, but he is always with me in the kitchen.

Dad and Mom in Vancouver-2005