As we all know, one interesting by-product of the so-called 'economic crisis' is that many of us have become re-acquainted with the things that really matter in life i.e. love, comfort, safety, security, unlimited-ride Metrocards, and food.
I've actually been having a bit of fun learning more and more ways to economize in the Food department, much of which involves, well, cooking. Something I never did in my before-crash life. I'm one of those people who simply cannot be trusted in the kitchen. I burn – no, scorch – expensive pots, set fire to spatulas (once because I left it in the oven) and have ruined more electric tea kettles than I care to count. How, you ask? I put them on the stove.
I have an excellent excuse which is that I am recovering from a mild traumatic brain injury – but that is another story, not to be belabored here.
The point of this tangent is: I should not, not, not cook. Thus, raw. Thus we come to the point of this particular piece: Why you should crack your own nuts.
We begin with cost. Unshelled nuts are significantly cheaper than shelled ones. The extra money saved allows you to splurge on higher-quality curry powders, and/or a bottle of your favorite Malbec.
But what I found most exhilarating was the actual act of cracking the nuts. It takes some getting used to. We Americans are impatient, and spoiled, and we want everything now, and we want someone else to do all the work. Someone has to crack them. Or perhaps machines do it these days. I don't even know – because I'm an American, and we Americans have totally lost sense of where our food comes from, and we have absolutely no compassion or gratitude for the people who harvest the nuts, and gather them up into large straw baskets, and carry them on their heads to a waiting pickup truck, where some cruel feudal landowner chastises them for working so slowly. That is how it's done, right? (kidding). I think I read about this long ago, in Steinbeck.
At first, I was enormously impatient with the nut-cracking process. I needed my protein and I needed it right away. My usual pre-crash method of protein intake was to open a plastic container, pour a handful of nuts into my hand, and thrust the whole lot into my mouth, barely chewing as I rushed off to check another email.
The home-cracking method seemed to take hours. Plus, I was using an ancient nutcracker, found by chance at the back of the junk-drawer with a few 22-cent stamps (remember those?). This relic was one of those V-shaped nutcrackers, with slightly ridged surface, ostensibly to keep the nut in place as you tried to crack it. What a piece of crap this thing is.
I spent twenty minutes trying to get one hazelnut to stay in place so that I could squeeze it. I don't know why I even kept trying. Finally, in a fit of liver-deficiency rage, I sledge-hammered the damn thing, resulting in a hazelnut reduced to smithereens, and scattered across various corners of the kitchen floor. My dog got that one, hacking up bits of shell. I went to bed extremely pissed off. I hated having no money and having to do all this work just to eat.
Almonds were much much easier to crack, I discovered. In fact, it became rather satisfying, to position the nut and give the cracker a quick squeeze. It became oddly fulfilling to part open the shells and see the nut inside, cradled like a n new infant. I felt connected to the earth in a way only city people can. Here within this hard shell lay a nut, a token of sustenance, proof that Mother Earth always provides. But still, despite the newly-found appreciation of nature's bounty, I still found myself being impatient. After seven self-cracked nuts, I'd give up.
In most Asian systems of medicine – Traditional Chinese Medicine and Ayurveda come to mind – all nuts should be eaten in moderation. Everything should be eaten in moderation, in fact. Plato said this long ago, and we'd do well to remember it. An excess of any food throws our whole system out of balance. But it seems Americans are so used to being out of balance we hardly notice it. Did you know that we are not supposed to eat more than ten almonds per day? Yogi Bhajan says that five almonds per day serve as a cancer preventative. Three Brazil nuts will give us our recommended daily intake of selenium per day. Anymore than that and you risk OD-ing on selenium.
Because I discovered Chinese Medicine early on in my eating life, I have always kept moderation in mind. Plus, I am part-French, and thus have always been rather appalled at the American custom of excess. Spend ten minutes at an American restaurant and you'll see what I mean. The local diner will serve gargantuan glasses of morning orange juice – seven oranges worth. Your 'side' of fries comprises five julienned potatoes. And a peanut butter sandwich can contain, oh, two hundred ground-up peanuts. Do you know how long it would take you – I mean you, personally – to shell that many peanuts?
As much time as it would take to read ten articles on One For The Table.
So, as I crack my almonds, walnuts and Brazil nuts, I keep this in mind. Mother Nature must have intended to make it a little difficult for we humans (and other mammals) to get at her nuts. I find this concept delightful – as though I have finally been let in on one of the secret laws of the universe.
Then there is the patience factor to consider. I am a meditator – I study Buddhism and practice Hindu and Sikh chants daily. I meditate on patience, love, and compassion. And a good Buddhist practices these things all day – not just on the cushion. So, swearing at my nutcracker and assaulting hazelnuts is technically going against everything I have been taught.
But there is good news for those of us who lack patience. And are proud of it. There are now, on the market, dozens of nutcrackers that do the job for you without much effort on your part. When I was conducting research, I found the best listing of nutcrackers at The Independent.
Yes, this is a British website, but all of the items listed can be found in the States as well. I must confess I wanted each and every one of the crackers on this Top-Ten list. For, in keeping with the UK aesthetic, they ranged from the practical to the hilarious to downright cute. How about an aluminum squirrel nutcracker (shiny and cute)? Or, get this, a life-like Margaret Thatcher cracker, in which you insert the nut up her skirt and crack it between her legs? I could not resist the silver-plated walnut cracker--an over-sized walnut so attractive it might pass as a Tiffany's pill case. How about a limited edition mohair (what?) Teddy Bear nutcracker, available at Harrods for 247 pounds?
Our favorite was of course created by a Dane – the masters of sleek practicality – Bruno Christensen. An uncomplicated mechanism in which you place the nut on a metal plate, place a metal-and rubber dome on top, and apply slight pressure. Then, voila – a cracked nut.
With this latter model, you can even tap-and-crack with your left hand as you tap messages into your laptop with your right hand. A must for those who eat in front of the computer. Just be sure not to get any bits of shell on your keyboard.
Someday soon I plan to go camping. Or perhaps just hiking – a quick MetroNorth ride up to Cold Spring. In my pack I'll keep a bag of nuts and the old V-shaped cracker. I like the idea of sitting atop a vista, with views of the Hudson River and the Catskills spreading out before me. And I'll crack the nuts one by one, giving the shells back to Mother Earth. Where they came from. And where they belong. Which is kind of where we belong, too.
No more plastic containers for this girl. Which is another topic – going green – but let us rest with the image of the vista. And the relaxed, meditative method of cracking shells.
Lee Harrington is the best-selling author of the memoir: Rex and the City: A Woman, a Man, and a Dysfunctional Dog (Villard: 2006) and of the novel The Beautiful and the Good. At night, she sings in an all-female Who tribute band called "Pictures of Lily."