September 1

I have fond memories of eating handfuls of freshly roasted hazelnuts as a kid. Only back then, I knew them by the name my grandpa used --filberts-- which I now understand is merely a difference in geographical naming convention.

Anyway, we made pizza for dinner last night. Before Adam left to buy supplies, he asked me if I had anything special in mind for mine, and I absently remarked that I really liked the hazelnuts that CPK puts on their pear and gorgonzola pizza. (Seriously, so good.)

I was surprised when he came home with a bag of chopped hazelnuts. I used a few on my pizza, and yes, they were tasty.

But they were even tastier today. Throwing fat and calorie caution to the wind, I ate several handfuls. I relished the memories of savoring that exact flavor many years ago while sitting in my grandpa's recliner.

And I realize I was twice-blessed through the experience: blessed to have the memory, and blessed to have a husband who brought it to the forefront of my mind with a simple but extraordinarily grocery gift.