re: Who else here grew up with the Omnipresent wooden nut bowl and nut cracker around

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Fatigue toes

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I read this on the toilet and laughed so hard I pooped

Had one, the 60s and 70s were awesome. Only used it during the holidays.

I shelled so many pecans with one of these.

We had a pecan tree in the back yard and I was the nut cracker. Wooden bowl picture brought back memories. I was told not to eat what I cracked but put them in a bowl.

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Fatigue toes

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My mother grew up in wisconsin and said that what they called them when they were kids. So not just a south thing

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memories. I was told not to eat what I cracked but them in a bowl.

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damn that’s child abuse

And the yard trees we had the pecan meats usually had that bitter felt coating on them you have to scrape off with the pick tool.

One fun memory was talking convincing my cousin into putting his finger in the cracker plier thingy.

My grandmother lived near Redemptorist, and she had a pecan tree in her backyard — the kind that produced enough nuts to keep half of Baton Rouge in pie form. And in her kitchen there was always the bowl. Not just any bowl, mind you, but the sacred family pecan-cracking vessel, permanently stationed like a shrine to Southern snacking.

And now that you mention it, I somehow ended up inheriting her old V-shaped nutcracker — the one built out of pure Depression-era steel and spite. I actually used it this morning on a pistachio that had the audacity to resist me. Cracked it open for my husband like I was channeling my grandmother’s spirit, her forearm strength, and at least three generations of "We don’t waste good food in this house".

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quote:Fatigue toes Grew up in Louisiana and never heard them referred to as this.

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your family must have been gay then. It wasn’t until almost adult hood I said to myself wait maybe I shouldn’t call them that with people I don’t know. Hell even Fatigues I knew called them Fatigue toes themselves.

From November thru February

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Always strikes me as odd when someone passes. Everyone only wants the valuable stuff.

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After my Grand Mother passed all the grand kids fought over getting this little orange cup all of us drank out of at the breakfast table when we stayed at their house when we were little.