The elusiveness of the long-distance pink peanut patty

You can talk about your Moon Pie or your Peeps or your Circus Peanuts. Not for me, not now nor never. My nostalgia is for Pink Peanut Patties. I didn't realize they were a regional treat until my family moved out of the region. Which is Texas, of course.

I found myself thinking about the pink peanut patty as I was preparing the post on peanut clusters. The right peanut makes a big difference in peanut clusters. Ask my friend who bought raw peanuts by accident. I never have a use for raw peanuts, although I know there are peanut brittle recipes that call for them. But there was the time I made pink peanut patties at home.

Pink peanut patties must be made with raw peanuts. The recipe I used was a good one. My mother had saved it from a Dallas newspaper, which she'd seen on a trip to visit relatives. The DIY pink peanut patties turned out OK, if small. I made them at Christmas and shared them with my sisters. The men in the family wouldn't touch them and my children didn't like them either. This Wikipedia entry shows a strong resistance to the allure of this gourmet treat, as well.

Does today's pink peanut patty live up to my childhood memory? I'd say it does. Once I helped a woman from Texas with some genealogy research at the public library where I worked. She was in town for two or three days, using our materials. I can't recall any unusual service that I rendered but she wanted to show her gratitude in some way. I said I really missed the pink peanut patty, something I couldn't find in the Midwest. She didn't know what I was talking about but she asked for my address anyway. A week or two later, I got a box of about two dozen patties.

If there ever was a candy that needed a freshness date, it's the pink peanut patty. There's a fine line between delicious and "It's not worth it." Since nobody in the family would help me with this lady's generous gift, I was on my own. I did my best. I froze the rest.