Hubby likes eating at a good steakhouse. You know the kind I’m talking about, with baskets of warm bread brought to the table while you decide which of a zillion different steak options you are in the mood for. The menus look like small phone books with page after page of dining choices. When the bread runs out, no worries because there are buckets upon buckets of roasted peanuts still in the shell to keep you occupied. Just crack ’em open, toss the shell on the floor and pop those addictive nuts into your mouth. I don’t know how it is in your family, but with mine we are so full of bread and nuts that the meal itself is an after thought. Maybe there should be a restaurant that serves only warm bread and peanuts in the shell. Oh wait, those are called saloons!