Pistachio Hell

I recently saw an interview with the oft deadpan (and slightly awkward) comedian and actor Richard Ayoade, speaking about his latest book, 'Afterthoughts (or Some Pistachios Won't Open)'. It was the second part of the title that got me thinking, and the more I thought about it, the more I had to get something off my chest.

Anybody that has sat with a bowl of otherwise innocent roasted pistachios (salted or not salted, that's your preference) might understand the utter frustration that comes with coming across the first stubborn pistachio. I mean, pistachios are tiny, sweet, creamy, utterly delicious little seeds of green. One of these protein and nutrient-dense 'natural wonders' that influencers (oh God, don't get me started on bloody influencers) are telling us are one of the foods they are ordering us to eat more regularly, claiming that the flesh of the seed contains miracles that can apparently help with everything from lower blood pressure or helping you to sleep. 

What doesn't come with a pistachio is a health warning: Some pistachios won't open therefore pistachios MAY break fingernails, MAY cause tension, MAY make you feel pathetic and useless and MAY spoil your weekend night in. There you are on a Saturday night, silently prising the shells apart whilst drinking a beverage of choice watching Saturday night TV. Five pistachios in and you come across the first unopened pistachio. You put it aside in the 'to be returned to' pile and continue happily on your pistachio munching journey. In record time (I mean, pistachio picking can reach a frantic speed as the hungry brain tried to compensate for the fact that unlike peanuts, you can't just throw a handful into your gob), you reach the end and turn your attention to the 'to be returned to' pile.

The first one is a bit tricky, you haven't even removed your eyes from the screen, just fingers frantically picking and attempting to find an opening. You move onto the next one and repeat. By the third one, they've got your attention and you bring it closer to your face (which has started to go a bit red and pinch-mouthed). You can see the tiniest of gaps and with great effort, prise a thumbnail or two in and try to wedge it open. The face goes a bit redder so you throw it down (yes, throw, patience starting to run a bit thin) back into the 'to be returned to' pile and attempt another, only to be greeted with the same impossible gap. This time you put a bit more effort in and the gap slightly widens but with that, your fingernails threaten to break as the sting of fingernail removal hits you. That one gets thrown down too. Onto the next, rinse and repeat. You might somehow manage to get one open but at great pain and as you munch on it, it's slightly bitter with the taste of success not helping. You feel a bit sad and rubbish as you give up on another one and the next thing you know, you've got a good handful of pistachios that you can't open ready to either be chucked away (they aren't cheap) or broken into with a hammer (and if you try that method, I've another article I can write on it). By this stage, your face is really red and your mouth is so huffed it resembles a cat's backside. Your family are confused and aren't sure whether to speak to you or not. Weekend evening well and truly ruined.

Maybe I'm taking this all too seriously. Maybe I am a nut opening wimp and not one other person has ever experienced this and a bit confused with all the fuss. Well, Richard Ayoade clearly has. And if you've never had the unfortunate experience of an unopened pistachio, you won't have that foreboding feeling of dread of what is to come and therefore - and quite rightly - questioning my sanity. 

So take this as a strict warning if you do get influenced and reach for a bag of pistachios rather than crisps this weekend. The pistachio may look innocent but in that tiny seed contains enough evil to make a grown man cry, to make fingernails scream, to make faces go red and mouths rather pinched.