My grandparents’ visits involved several food rituals — pumpernickel from Bauhof’s bakery, walnuts and ribbon candy (Christmastime) and, always, peanuts from Hickory Farms. These peanuts had an edible shell, very thin, with a slight salty flavor. When Hickory Farms disappeared from this area, I couldn’t find those peanuts, or even a reasonable facsimile.
Until Cuernavaca, where they are sold on the street as “Peanuts, Japanese style.” They came in blue-and-white packages with the caricature of a geisha on the bag.
Recently, Baltimore’s burgeoning Latino population has meant that one can find these peanuts in some grocery stores. I’m on the hunt, all the time.
But I’ve never figured out what makes them “Japanese style.”
Hey Laura,
Finally on and glad to see the fruition of the Memory Project. I have been to Japan a few times and don’t remember peanuts being ever served. What is really cool is at the bars they serve endemame (sp?) or soybeans like a Fell’s Point bar would put out pretzel’s.
I do miss UTZ, and by the time I left Baltimore UTZ was just starting to branch out of the plain, bbq and sour and onion. I was so excited to see and Old Bay and Salt & Vinegar…
Quick story, I was in Bombay, India, staying at an exclusive hotel called, you’ll never guess, the Taj Mahal Hotel (which is 500+ miles away in Agra, but who would notice). We went to eat at their fancy restaurant, where they served authentic Indian food and had belly dancers (I didn’t know belly dancers were an authentic practice in India, but “when in India do as the Persians do”…)
Taking advantage of tasting true Indian food was a treat, and I asked only for truly authentic stuff. The first thing served was a dark green cold soup that smelled of fermented grass, looked as though a sacred cow coughed it up with its fill of cudd, and it tasted even worse than it looked or smelled.
Anyway, I asked the waiter to take it away before I gagged anymore. Just as he took the bowl away a belly dancer hit his elbow and the soup went all over my shirt. I can laugh about it now, but imagine taking week old crab shells and rubbing them all over your body…that would be about ten steps up from this.
Well (almost finished), I am an XXL, 46 L in suits, and believe me, the tallest Indian I saw was maybe a Large in the petit section. They were so gracious and offered to clean my shirt while we waited. Only problem was the largest shirt they had was so small I looked like Chris Farley in Tommy Boy (“Fat guy in a small suit”). The polo shirt came up on me like a sleeveless shirt, and yes, even my belly button was showing. Nevertheless, the rest of the meal was marvelous and besides having diareaha for the next three weeks, I had a wonderful time.
Moral: if you don’t know why they have little geisha’s on the bag, then just be thankful there is no belly dancer on it holding a bowl of green soup.
Jay