Joe’s Produce & the Caviar of the South

A Southern delicacy and a bit of nostalgia

I grew up in the South. Ok, actually I grew up in Florida, which any true Southerner will tell you isn’t the “real” South. Point taken I suppose; Florida is a big place with varying levels of “Southernness.” To be specific, I grew up in north-central Florida, which is really quite Southern.

In fact, we embraced all things Southern and that included the food. Collard greens, black eye peas, hog jowls, grits, all of it was beloved (and most of it was fried). I remember my Neemama (grandmother for you Northern folks) cooking all those things with a “healthy” dose of lard that she kept in a small bowl on top of the stove.

Photo by Imani Manyara on Unsplash

But none of that was as awesome to me as . . .

Boiled peanuts. Just the words make my mouth water. I think of them as the caviar of the South.

Making them is simplicity itself: you take raw peanuts still in the shell, pour them into a big ‘ole pot of simmering hot water that’s been heavily salted, and let them simmer for anywhere from 3 to 8 hours. That’s it. Now some folks say to fancy it up with Cajun spices, cayenne, and red pepper flakes, but that’s a bit too prideful for me. Plus, it’s unnecessary. Salt’s good enough. Let the peanut shine on its own.

peanuts (pexels)

You can boil peanuts on the stovetop, but when I visualize peanuts being boiled only one image comes to mind.

The gargantuan pot sitting over an outdoor fire behind Joe’s Produce.

Joe’s Produce was a staple of my hometown, a place the kids referred to as “Deadland, Florida.” (Those of you from the area know exactly which town I’m referring to.) In a previous life, Joe’s had been a gas station, but now it served as the place where you could go and get the best damn produce you’ve ever seen in your life.

Think grapefruits the size of your head. Lettuce the size of basketballs. Now, I will readily admit that I’m probably remembering it through the eyes of my youth, but not by much. I promise. I live in the Midwest now, and I had to give up buying oranges here altogether. Joe’s spoiled me; I can’t look at what passes for “oranges” here and buy them in good conscience.

It’s just sad, but is what it is.

Now back to the peanuts.

Peanut season was typically September and October; maybe into November if you were lucky. So, in the fall, when there was a nip in the air and evenings were cool, and even in Florida you could break out a sweater or two, people would go and pick peanuts, buckets in hand. Joe, of course, had his own supply.

I should mention that I was one of God’s chosen few — we lived just down the street, about a block from Joe’s Produce. On Saturdays in the fall, I would get on my bike and ride over to Joe’s. Most of the time I got some produce too; something my Mama asked me to get, or something that caught my eye. But there was only one reason I was really there.

At the back of the store (Pexels)

If you knew about it and if you asked politely (which I always did), Joe would escort you out behind the store where he had this HUGE pot of peanuts boiling. The pot was covered, and you could see the steam rising from a crack off the side of the lid. You could smell them too, and that smell was glorious. It smelled like the South. It smelled like the South in the fall. And I loved it.

Joe would carefully open up the pot, and using a big spider ladle, scoop out the peanuts into a brown paper bag. All the while, conversing with me: how’s the family, how’s school, football in general — all the things every Southerner knows to talk about.

Once done, he’d put the lid back on the pot and we’d go back into the store to tally up. I’d spend a minute figuring out how to balance all the stuff I bought and myself on the bike, then I’d say bye to Joe, and head home. Our weekly transaction was over.

As soon as I got home, my Daddy and I would pour ourselves some peanuts into bowls and head for the couch to watch football. (You have to have a second bowl or a bag to put the peanut shells in, by the way.) We’d happily shell peanuts and eat them while the game was on. Those peanuts were still warm and oh my Lord they were good!

I will always associate eating peanuts with watching football with my Dad — three pillars of Southern culture (for me, at least).

Now, let me see if I can describe what boiled peanuts taste like. First off, it’s been my experience that a person either loves them or hates them — there’s rarely an in-between. If you hate them, that’s ok. I’ll try not to think less of you, especially if you aren’t from the South. You weren’t raised to appreciate the finer things.

Photo by Ashes Sitoula on Unsplash

Boiled peanuts are soft, not like roasted peanuts at all. They are more like a firm bean in texture than what people would think of when they think of roasted peanuts. Actually, that makes sense — peanuts are, after all, in the legumes family. You take the shell off (Don’t eat the shell! That’s a first timers mistake I’ll try and spare you from.). The peanut itself is salty; some say it has an “earthy” flavor, but I can’t say that I have picked up on that. So, the texture of the peanut is a bit soft, but still firm enough for my taste. It’s not squishy or anything like that — that would be gross.

As I write this, I realize I am no food critic, who can wax philosophic about the subtle flavors and earthy bouquet of the boiled peanut. Boiled peanuts are a simple, fairly straightforward food. To me, boiled peanuts simply are. Not fancy. Just boiled peanuts. A thing to themselves. And it is possible that some of the love I feel for them is rooted in nostalgia. If so, so be it. I’m telling you they’re really tasty any way!

Bottom line: Boiled peanuts are a simple but wholly satisfying snack. I could eat them every day of my life, if I could get my hands on them. But since I’m no longer in the South, getting them freshly boiled is next to impossible.

There are places online you can order peanuts that are prepared and sent in a bag, ready to be boiled. To be honest, I haven’t tried it. It’s pretty pricy. But maybe I will at some point. Believe it or not, WalMart sells canned boiled peanuts and occasionally when I am well and truly desperate, I will buy a can. Honestly? They’re not as bad as I would have thought they would be. So, if they are your only option, you could try them that way.

But if you’re down home, go for the real thing. Sadly, Joe’s Produce is no longer there. Neither is Joe, God rest his soul. But in the fall, if you can find a gas station or even a roadside stall — and if you ask politely — you might find someone with a gargantuan pot simmering over a fire with peanuts quietly boiling. Bring a big brown bag with you.