Annual Peanut Brittle Makin’ Days

In Southwest Missouri, we have several festivals that are classic “Ozarkian.” From Sucker Days in Nixa, MO to Apple Butter Makin’ Days in Mt. Vernon, MO, people turn out from near and far to enjoy the fun. I don’t go to these festivals. In my family, we have our own.
Several years ago, my entire family went to Silver Dollar City in Branson, MO together. We found it hard to pull my dad away from the candy shop, where they were demonstrating how to make peanut brittle. My dad is a very enterprising person, and it wasn’t surprising to see him shaking his head and saying things like, “it’s not going to turn out right,” and “they’re playing with it too much – for a show.” What he was really thinking was, “I can do better.”
As usual, he was right. He found a recipe in an old Betty Crocker cookbook, and tweaked it (and no, I won’t share the recipe). He made custom boards for spreading the brittle allowing it to cool in optimal time after spreading. Year after year he turned out pounds of homemade peanut brittle which was distributed to his business suppliers, neighbors, friends, and family. Everyone said it was the best peanut brittle they’d ever had, and each year asked when he was making more. About six years ago, my sister Kathy decided she wanted to learn the secret to Dad’s peanut brittle. Ever the little sister, I couldn’t be left out, so I invited myself to the party, and thus, our tradition began.
Somewhere along the way, we started to refer to our one Saturday in November as our Annual Peanut Brittle Makin’ Days. Year after year, some things never change. Every year, Dad tells Kathy she’s not doubling the recipe right. Every year, he tells me that I’m playing too much trying to spread the brittle out on the boards. Every year, Mom watches and offers her advice on how to make the peanut brittle, even though she’s never done it. Every year, someone gets mad, someone gets hurt, or something gets broken. And every year, the recipients of the 1/2 pound bag of peanut brittle are thrilled, and tell us again, “Your dad makes the best peanut brittle.”
This morning was no different than any other year. After 3 1/2 hours we had about 15 pounds of brittle made, and the casualty was my digital camera. I knew this would make a great post for the blog and I wanted to get a family photo. Unfortunately, my camera and tripod was knocked over and crashed on the kitchen floor. It wouldn’t turn on at all, and my family photo wasn’t meant to be. (After I got home and it sat for a while, it did start working again). These are some of the pictures from Annual Peanut Brittle Makin’ Days:
Kathy is cooking a new batch:

Dad and I are spreading it out:

And Mom is “helping.”
So even though I didn’t get my family photo today, I still have the memories of another year of our family tradition to treasure. Because, in the end, it’s really not about the peanut brittle at all.