This evening I had to boil 100 raw peanuts for 4 hours.
I won’t lie. It was scary.
I was fine until I had to cut open the bag. At that point I was putting into one of my saucepans on my hob something that could potentially kill my child. I was compromising the peanut free zone that my kitchen (house) has been for the last 6 years. 6 years is a long time for a habit to get ingrained.
Following the fear, was boredom.
Four hours is a long time to boil something for. Checking the pan isn’t boiling dry, making sure the hob hasn’t turned itself off (we have a rather special hob), wondering if the Boy has an itchy nose because of the steam from the pan (with a lid on, I hasten to add) or some other random reason.
Oh wait, we’re heading back to scared now.
Of course, I fed him a quarter of a boiled peanut this morning and he was ok (aside from the itchy tongue and tummy ache, but they cleared up mercifully quickly) so he’ll be fine tomorrow.
Except that today’s quarter of a boiled peanut was prepared by the hospital. They’ve been doing it for ages and they’ve done lots of them. Lots of people have eaten them and been ok. Tomorrow’s quarter of a boiled peanut will have been prepared by me. It’s the first time I’ve done it.
Definitely back to scared.
Still. It’s done. The peanuts are boiled and in my freezer at this very moment. And I even managed to resist the temptation to bleach the entire kitchen and rinse it with boiling water.
Mind you, I did wash my hands with soap and then washing up liquid with incredibly hot water. They hurt now.
(100 boiled peanuts, sitting on a tray…)