A Tough Nut to Crack

Last fall I was reading an Indiana Amish cookbook that had lots of recipes for hickory nut cookies and cakes. My mouth started watering; I remembered how good toasted hickory nuts tasted.

I remembered picking up the nuts off the ground from under the giant shagbark on Running Fox Farm. We got bushels of them, but we had to be vigilant and be there early to beat out the squirrels. Because, by mid-November, there wouldn't be even one left.

Remembering the terrific cookies we made with our harvest, I set out looking for a hickory tree. Less than a hundred years ago, the area where I live was part of The Grand Kankakee Marsh, and hickory trees grew wild here. As I live at the intersection of Hickory Lane and Twelfth Place, I headed down Hickory and checked every tree on the way.  I can report that Hickory is not a descriptive name, but only a memorial.

I asked around and so far I've found out that there is a Hickory on the campus of Lowell High School (20 miles away) and that the rectory of a church a few blocks from me has a Black Walnut in their back yard.  (Also great for baking).  And I keep an eye out as I drive around for the distinctive shape of a Hickory Nut Tree.

In the interest of full disclosure:  It is really hard to get the tasty little morsels out of their shells.