It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas! La la la la la!
Yah yah, I know, it’s still weeks away (four to be exact), but things always get started early for me. I always like to have my shopping, baking, and decorating done so that Jeff and I get to enjoy a little Christmas of our own here in Toronto before we head home to NS to be with the fam. And so with all of that excitement surrounding me, it only makes sense that I get a little merrier, a little more jolly just a *tad* too early.
And really, there is nothing wrong with that, as my merriment signals one thing in specific: PEANUT BUTTER BALLS!!!
These PB Balls are a family recipe, coveted by many, but made by few. My mom use to be the only provider: I can’t imagine how she kept up with the raging crowds and PB ball demand-ers! Then my sister started carrying the torch, and I’ll be the first to say that my sis makes a good ball.
So when Jeff and I started hosting our annual Christmas party here in Toronto, I figured I’d have a go at these perfect holiday treats. Well! They may look like a simple mix of chocolate and peanut butter, but you’d only be kidding yourself if you assumed there was not tole and trouble behind these babies.
That is one of the many reasons you are not getting the recipe so easily: it must be earned. (That, and Jeff came running in the room screaming, “Don’t give it away!”)
Seriously, “Mom’s Peanut Butter Balls” take TIME. Simple to “whip up”; an art to execute. Jeff was allotted nine balls all to himself of the original batch, only to garner a few more due to too much chocolate, too little chocolate, or a ball simply falling apart. My occasional ball failure is his peanut butter-y bliss.
As perverted as it may sound, the 406 Holiday Party is known for its balls. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but people literally start confirming in October that there will be plenty of my peanut butter balls, as well as Jeff’s famous meat balls. They get into sweats, worrying that if they show up late, they may miss out on the treats. We have never asked people to choose their favorite balls (PB or meat), but I guess that would be like comparing apples and oranges.
So I hope I’ve piqued your curiosity about how delicious these culinary delights could possibly be. Let’s put it this way: the head chef at the restaurant I work at demands every year that I bring her a fair offering of balls. That, and I go through most of my painter’s tape trying to get the message across to Jeff that HE ONLY GETS NINE!!!
Have a secret family recipe??? I’d love to hear about it (even if it is under lock and key ;) ).