Um, major confession.
I made brittle and all of a sudden I feel like I’ve jumped into grandma territory. Somehow I went straight from being a mom to embracing the cozy, nostalgic energy of a grandmother.
Neither of my grandmothers ever made brittle, but the brittle I remember most came from Mother Lovett’s cabinet where she kept candy and treats. Her stash included gumdrops, old peanut butter cups, two-year-old Snickers bars and a hoard of salt water taffy we were forbidden to touch. That taffy could have been four to six years old and it was off-limits.
That was a different cabinet than the one holding fritos, pretzels and a bag of bright, tacky “party mix” — the kind with balloons and streamers on the package that felt deliciously retro. I would always pick through it, leaving the strangest things behind for everyone else.
