My uncle, a man well experienced in the ways of the world, used to tell a story of walking along the sands of Laguna Beach one night while in a drunken daze. There he stumbled upon a group of groovy kids who invited him to sit by the warmth of their bonfire and share in what my uncle described as "the tastiest nuts" that had ever touched his tongue. Bidding the group good night he proceeded to practice a well-worn family tradition and stuffed a handful of the delicious morsels into his pocket before heading home. The next morning he found himself fumbling around for his keys in the pockets of the jacket he wore the night before and upon pulling out his hand, produced a fistful of what appeared to be roasted grasshoppers. "NUTS!!!" he cried.