11.26.23
It is a wee bit chilly out there this morning, a mere 14 degrees with a beautiful star-studded sky and the ground lit by the ghostly light of the moon. Perfect brittling weather! Yesterday morning was also a cold one which saw us up and busy making more of this season’s sweet peanut brittle treat. I had thought about having another morning of making brittle but then the urge to write took hold and the brittling was postponed until this evening instead. I am sure Darrell did not mind the thought of another hour dozing under the bedcovers!
It may seem odd to some folks, but the weather and outside temperature must be just right before I make our seasonal treat of peanut brittle. Made in small batches with pots and pans and even a wooden spoon that is used for nothing other than making brittle, the annual event is a special one here on the Triple H. I started making my peanut brittle for Darrell right after we were married, and he loved it then and loves it now! It became a traditional part of the year for us, and we still anxiously await crisp cold nights so the brittling can begin!
A few years ago, a friend, after tasting the sweet treat, encouraged me to try selling a few bags at a local bazaar. Before long, bags of peanut brittle were in demand from folks near and far to be given as gifts or enjoyed by friends and family during the holiday season. Orders now start coming in early these days, so when November arrives, Darrell and I anxiously watch the weather for the perfect time to brittle. Yes indeed! The weather must be just right! I never make my peanut brittle unless the temperature outside is nicely below freezing. Why is that you ask? Well, when the mixture of ingredients – sugar, corn syrup (American made of course!), masses of raw Spanish peanuts, creamy butter and real vanilla – reaches a temperature of 300 degrees on the dot, the mixture is quickly poured onto buttered tin sheets. After being given a shake and as Darrell opens the front door, I dash outside and place the tins onto the old gas cooker that sits on our front porch. The shock of the hot tins hitting the icy cold top of the cooker combined with the chilly air makes the brittle set up quick as a wink, creating the thin, sweet treat so favoured by Darrell and now many others!
After becoming thoroughly chilled, which takes very little time, the pans are brought inside, and the sheets of brittle broken into smaller slabs before being weighed and placed in their little ribbon tied bags. Now brittle is just that, brittle. It must be handled with the utmost care, for once shattered, there is no putting the pieces back together again.
As I sit here this morning with my cup of tea, the fire is blazing in the woodstove and since I am not making peanut brittle, the dogs are laying happily by the fire – they are delegated to the laundry room when brittling is going on! It is so peaceful. Nothing but the sound of the kettle singing quietly away as it sits on a trivet perched on the corner of the stove, the gentle ticking of the clock and occasional snore from Bella. It is a moment to savour, to think quiet thoughts, a time to reflect on days gone by and days to come. Not in a maudlin way, but a grateful way. I feel the urge to resume the writing of my stories once again and not just my Sunday ones I might add!
There is so much going on in this poor old world right now, so much anger and strife that if one is not careful, one can easily be caught up in the maelstrom. Not that one should ignore what is going on of course! It never does do to bury one’s head in the sand, but somehow, I feel the need to find a way to keep my heart warm, to believe there is good in this world and goodness and peace will prevail. As I was breaking a fragile slab of peanut brittle yesterday morning, the telly was on, the news channel was showing the Red Cross vans transporting some of the released hostages to safety across the Gazan border. My heart went out to the families. What healing there will need to be done, yet with love, one knows the healing will happen.
Love truly is a great healer. An emotion so strong it can overcome the seeming impossible. Breaking another slab of brittle, I thought about how a dear friend of mine a short while ago had mentioned Kintsugi to me, the ancient art of repairing shattered pottery. It takes love of this art to painstakingly sort through shattered shards of ceramic, carefully gluing each piece back together with special resins that have been mixed with or dusted over with gold or silver. The goal is not to hide the damage that was done, rather to show that a once broken object has been repaired. The scars attesting to this are not hidden but there for all to see. What once was broken is now whole and strong again. We must all have hope that one day, the healing of our poor old world will begin… and, like the bowl repaired by the art of Kintsugi, be the stronger and better for it.