Peanut butter

You are eating the wrong kind of peanut butter, sayeth daughter Tamela, guru of all things digestible. You need to eat organic peanut butter. That stuff you’re eating is homogenized, and it has mold. Not good for you, she insisted.

But I like it; I declared it’s chunky peanut butter, extra protein, a substitute for red meat, and mega bucks less expensive. Besides, what’s wrong with peanut butter being homogenized and maybe with a wee bit of mold, I asked.

I remembered before milk was homogenized, when it was delivered to the doorstep, lovely thick cream on top that Daddy poured into a saucer and left sitting out on the kitchen counter overnight to thicken, and the next day, ate with gusto this concoction he called Quark sprinkled with sugar and topped with chunks of rye bread. His version of yogurt. Homogenized milk put an end to that.

But, back to peanut butter.

Peanuts, which, unlike walnuts, hazelnuts, and chestnuts, do not grow on trees. They are a legume whose seeds anchor this hardy plant. Archeologists have managed to trace peanuts back 7,600 years to South America, Peru, specifically, where people had learned to roast these goobers, and make an edible paste which, trust me, might have been moldy but was not homogenized.

In modern times, when it was sold commercially, peanut butter came in a jar, oil floating on top, and you stirred it up as best you could. Mama, bless her German heart, refused to have it in the house.

When she was young, growing up on a farm in northern Europe, peanuts were fed to hogs. Humans did not indulge. As a young mother, she had heard of a child choking to death on peanut butter and as far as she was concerned, no matter how many of my friends enjoyed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, that all-American staple, her children would have to learn to exist on open face sandwiches, single slices of rye or Vienna or pumpernickel bread, smeared with butter, topped with salami and cheese or maybe lox or cream cheese.

Never peanut butter.

In case you didn’t know, Dothan, Alabama is considered the peanut capital of the World. However, Georgia, South Carolina, Florida, North Carolina, and Texas are the primary peanut-producing states in the US.

If you are in doubt about the importance of peanut butter worldwide, you have only to have followed the MacLean brothers, Ewan, Jamie, and Lachlan from Edinburgh, Scotland, who in 2025, rowed their boat Rose Emily, named after their mama, nonstop 9,000 miles from Peru to Australia in 139 days. These three intrepid young sailors, literally eating on the “row,” their supplies of freeze-dried foods, plus 16 kilograms of peanut butter, were reduced drastically during the last days of the trip. They ate the last spoonful of peanut butter on Day 135. But, lo and behold, a miracle. Mere days before reaching land, their destination on the horizon, one lone misplaced jar of peanut butter was found in the boat’s hull.

Celebration time. Porridge never tasted so good.

Although they confessed, forget the peanut butter, saving grace that it was, they were most anxious to have hot pizza and ice-cold beer waiting dockside upon their arrival in Cairns.

When I go primitive tent camping at the beach on Hunting Island, there are ants, mosquitoes, gnats, birds of all sorts, pelicans, and a multitude of potential crab bait raccoons. There is sand in my shoes, sand in my tent, sand in the shower house, sand in my bed, sand that gets personal.No electricity, no water faucet, no cares. The stars, oh the stars, and the moon for wonder. The hushed boom of ocean surf, the rustle of sea breeze through palmetto branches - my lullaby. And, I always have the necessaries. Sourdough bread, apples, Nutella, and my ever-faithful jar of chunky peanut butter.

Homogenized with mold.

Annelore Harrell’s journey is a tapestry woven with fascinating experiences and extraordinary accomplishments. Even at 92 in 2025, Annelore’s energy and zest for life continue to inspire. Annelore Harrell’s story is a testament to living with passion, resilience, and an