I moved to Los Angeles from Louisiana when I was eight years old when my mom separated from my dad. My dad stayed, and I went back to visit him a couple of years later. During that visit he made some boiled peanuts, and I remember I used to love them when I lived in Louisiana, but we did not have that out here in California.
I still don’t understand why more people don’t eat boiled peanuts out here. I get that it takes a while since you have to boil the peanuts for hours. But then seeing all of these assholes decide, “Oh I’m going to be a fucking baker during this pandemic,” and go through flour, salt, sugar, butter, sifting, vanilla, mixing, folding, eggs, stiff peaks, preheating ovens, clean toothpicks for five fucking hours only to get some shitty looking second-rate bread or cake or muffin or what not that can serve as an alternative to a hockey puck.
Yes, I’m still pissed off that I couldn’t get eggs for a month because of you assholes. I hope you can’t see your toes.
Oh yeah, peanuts. There is one place I would actually buy boiled peanuts: a dumpling stand at a Korean market in Koreatown. But because of the Rona, this stand is closed until further notice. I swear, Rona is a fucking cunt.
I’ve been craving boiled peanuts lately, so I’ve decided to make some. I bought 2 pounds of raw peanuts from the Korean market this weekend and soaked them overnight in water with 1/3 cup of salt, 3 tablespoons of creole seasoning and a teaspoon (or two) of chili pepper flakes.
Since I’m using raw peanuts as opposed to green peanuts (raw peanuts that were just dug up — they are not actually green) that’s why I soaked them overnight and cooked them for a longer amount of time. If I used green peanuts, I probably would have just soaked them for an hour then boiled them for two hours. But with raw peanuts, I soaked them overnight and cooked them for eight hours until they, shells and all, were soft and moist.
Man, they are good. That’s it.