I have this happy, foggy memory of being at a Christmas party with my parents; 1970? Someone opened the harvest gold oven door and pulled out a pan of “nuts and bolts”. It wasn’t “Chex Party Mix” back then. Whoever this family friend was, I don’t remember, but every year for years and years they brought my Dad a big jar of nuts and bolts for Christmas. We had one big jar and Daddy rationed it out like that jar of nuts and bolts was the only thing to keep us alive for a month . As the years passed their friend got older and unable so Mama started making the nuts and bolts. She still only made one big jar to last through the Christmas season. Somehow, knowing we had to make it last made it that much more special. As time went on, I became the maker of the beloved nuts and bolts. I gave Daddy a big jar full every Christmas and at the end of the season he would return the jar washed and ready to be filled the following year. It was our tradition. The first Christmas after Daddy passed away I made a big batch of nuts and bolts, filled Granddaddy’s jar and presented it to Crue. It’s funny how such small things can become so special and meaningful.

Tags Marianne Page Smith Nuts and Bolts Snigput Snigput Vittles