Chick Wit: Confessions of a nut addict

Addictions sneak up on you. They lure you in, teasing you, and before you realize it, you have a craving you can't deny.

I'm talking, of course, about nuts.

I'm nuts about nuts.

It might be a seasonal thing. Come fall, I gather nuts with the single-mindedness of a backyard squirrel. I buy bags and bags, then settle down with the single-gal trifecta - a Diet Coke, a good book, and the nut du jour.

We're chasing the dragon, ladies.

My habit started when I was young, and my gateway drug was sunflower seeds. They're labor-intensive, which is nature's attempt at portion control.

Futile.

Nature's no match for me, jonesing for sunflower seeds.

Everybody eats sunflower seeds in different ways, and I split mine with my teeth, then amass a tiny pile, like a little gray treasure. When I have about 25 seeds, I shove them in my mouth, all at once. This very attractive process used to take me about 10 minutes, but after years of practice, I've become a sunflower seed professional.

I can do 25 seeds in three minutes.

Don't try this at home. Or if you're married.

And I never cheat. That is, I never buy sunflower seeds already shelled. If I did, how else would I get that fine layer of filth under my fingernails?

Of course, no nut was as filthy as the old-school pistachio, dyed red. I don't know who thought it made sense to dye pistachio nuts red, but I'm guessing it was the same guy who used to dye Easter chicks pink. You remember what would happen if you ate red pistachios. Your fingers would be red for days. It wasn't a nut, it was a tattoo.

When I was little, brother Frank and I used to eat tons of red pistachios, but that was before he was gay. I doubt he would do that today. Gay men have too much style for pistachio fingers.

Plus nowadays we know that the red dye on pistachios causes cancer, or at least a lifetime of celibacy, so we eat the normal brown kind. They're meaty and delicious, and many of them come out of the bag partway open, which is helpful. Occasionally you run across a closed pistachio, and if you do, here's my advice:

Move on.

There's nothing for you there.

Don't even try to open a closed pistachio. Tenacity doesn't begin to describe these hardy few. You could use a clam shucker, a blow torch, or a nuclear weapon, but in the end, the closed pistachio will defeat you.

Instead, calm down and have an almond. It will take your mind off the closed pistachio, and it's always easy to crack, though it's disappointingly healthy. Walnuts fall into the same category. It's no fun to be addicted to something that's good for you.

Being addicted to something healthy is like loving exercise.

Go away.

Peanuts are also delicious, and because they properly belong in Snickers, they're naughty enough to qualify as an addiction. It was my beloved father who taught me to eat peanuts, by which I mean, he always ate the whole peanut, shell and all. It was the only way I knew to eat peanuts until one night when I popped a whole peanut and everyone started pointing and laughing.

"You don't eat the shells, silly!" they all said.

So I stopped.

Not eating the shells, just eating the shells in public.

Love you, Dad.

My all-time favorite nut is the pumpkin seed, especially the kind that comes coated with hard salt, white as packed snow but with a higher sodium content. And they're so salty, they practically demand another Diet Coke, in a vicious, yet familiar, salt/sugar cycle. Once I start eating pumpkin seeds, I can't stop. They take as long as a sunflower seed to shell, yet are less satisfying, since the seed is merely a sliver. It has just enough meat to keep you wanting more, yet never enough to satisfy completely, even after 25 seeds.

Or 50.

Pumpkin seeds are the crack cocaine of the nut world.

And I need an intervention.