Eating sunflower seeds is a lost art. Growing up they were a staple in every household in Saskatchewan. What backyard, schoolyard, beach or baseball field worth its salt, wasn't littered in discarded shells? On impulse I bought a package of Old Dutch Roasted and Salted at the Oakridge Co-op and taught my twenty-something son the finer points. Scoop a handful, pop one in, crack the shell, and manoeuvre the seed free with your tongue. See? No hands. Crack. Spit. Chew. Swallow. After a dozen or so attempts he was done. "It's hardly worth the effort, mom." he said. Ah, Millennials!