Hayter article for June 9, 2024
Gamma Jill’s Peanut Brittle
My Kid Sister Jill
I just finished a phone conversation with my kid sister Jill. I started with, “Hey, baby sister, I needed a topic for my article, and wanted to warn you that I’m choosing your peanut brittle sales.” She wanted to know how much she would get out for it, so I told her that her brittle sales would climb.
By the way, Jill has been making peanut brittle for years, and, at various events, sets up a stand with an awning and chairs, and great banner with a picture of a giant peanut on it, and the words “Gamma Jill’s Peanut Brittle” below.
Kay and I helped
her a couple of weeks back at Conroe’s Main Street Market, which they have
every Saturday, on or near Main Street. Actually, it was Kay who helped Jill
set up, because my broken rib was paining me. Remember? Brad Meyer ran over me
during our last racketball game and broke my rib.
Let’s get back to
Conroe’s Main Street Market. It was a hot day, my friend, but the customers and
vendors were nice. Of course, most of the passersby passed by without looking
at us. The men, mostly. That’s what I always do. If a vendor catches my eye, I
feel obligated to buy something. When I visited a time before, in a town far
away, I looked at some birdhouses a gentleman was selling for $160, well worth
the effort the man put into his wares. But, no way, would I pay that much for a
birdhouse. I might give a doctor $160 to reset my rib. But a birdhouse?
On this particular Saturday, it was hot with no breeze; much like each day from now till November 3. It was a bad time for Jill to have a headache. -- (Scientists have proved that 11:08 p.m. is the best time for headaches.) -- Jill felt so bad that she had to strain to smile, so I stepped up to the table and tried to sell brittle just like I knew what I was doing. I had to push Kay aside because she was getting in my way.
Jill makes three
types of brittle – peanut, pecan, and cashew. She’s got a knack. The pecan is
the favorite of most people. I think pecan goes best with something chocolate.
And, I prefer cashew nuts plain with a tad of salt. However, peanut brittle is
the best, Jerry. You can buy peanut brittle from the store or steal it from
your neighbor, but you’ll never find any as good as Jill makes.
The canopy next to Jill’s was owned by a lady with the most adorable seven-year-old daughter on the planet. She has a personality that is far above anyone her age. She even caught onto my sense of humor and responded with some great comebacks. Without question, I would like to raise a child as much as I would to train a camel. However, if Kay and I had ever had a child, I would’ve liked her to be the one. Were I her dad, she would’ve owned me.
It was around 11:00 when things started picking up. Kay and Jill decided to walk around and visit some other vendors, leaving me and the second grader to take care of business. The girl took charge.
I don’t think you’re supposed to hand out samples to the passers-by in Conroe, but the young lady was doing just that. She sold two containers of brittle, both pecan. And, she took care of the money, which included making change and jotting down a note of the sales. The girl’s mom taught her well. The young lady’s personality, though, was more God-given than inherited.
Eventually, Jill and Kay returned. Kay was the only one who bought anything. She found a light tan pair of shoes with corked heels. They’re what I would’ve picked out, were I into heels. Kay liked them so much that she wouldn’t let me try them on. She will share a lot of things, just not her footwear.
Big Al showed up shortly
after noon, which was great because I was in pain. – (I don’t know if I
mentioned it, but Brad Myer almost killed me on the racquetball court.) -- Jill
had me sit down on one of her lawn chairs so she could aim her fan at me. My
kid sister, who had been feeling lousy all morning, was worried about her big brother…
the one with the broken rib. Big Al was in good shape. Before I left, my kid
brother assured me he would look after Jill in my absence. I’m lucky he didn’t
slug me for thinking I had to ask. Al and Jill were best friends, at a time
before they had any friends.
When we left, the
little girl was helping her mom sell cookies. She soon came back and asked Jill,
“Where’s Mark?” Since Al took my place, she got to meet the Hayter brother with
a cool personality. All four brothers inherited different parts of Mom and
Dad’s DNA. I got Daddy’s nose and a desire to write. Mom’s DNA caused me to be
a fabulous cook. Big Al aside, there’s little competition in the family for
cooking.
After she got home, Jill emailed me that the little girl hit it off well with Al. I would’ve been surprised otherwise.
end
hayter.mark@gmail.com
