Saltine Bark of My Heart!

After my maple cream was only a 50% success last Christmas, I decided it was time to go with something foolproof, quick, delicious, and, most of all, cheap. At that point in the season, days before holiday gift exchange time, saltine bark seemed like my best option.

My roommate used to make it and it was the kind of snack I hated to love: sweet, crispy, salty, chocolatey. Oh. My. It's also almost shamefully easy to make.

It goes like this:
Grab a cookie sheet with a rim and line it with parchment paper. Take a bunch of saltines and spread them out in one even layer. If you have to, break some crackers in half to fill the tray completely. Melt together some butter and brown sugar, pour them over the crackers. Put the whole thing in a hot oven for a few minutes, while the butter and brown sugar soak into the crackers. Try to prevent yourself from shoving molten buttery crackers into your face. Then sprinkle chocolate chips over the whole tray, stick it back in the oven until the chocolate is soft, and then spread the chocolate with a knife or spatula.


Before the whole thing cools, sprinkle with your choice of: chopped nuts, chopped dried fruit, candy sprinkles, crushed peppermint (or other) candies, or whatever else sounds delicious pressed into chocolate on top of toffee. Gently press the topping into the chocolate and let it cool. When the pan is completely cooled, break the saltine bark up into chunks, wrap it in pretty packages using cellophane bags, parchment, or pretty candy boxes with ribbon. 


Here's how Paula Deen does it, and she can't possibly be wrong.


It's a pretty economical treat, by my calculations:
Saltines - $2.50/box, recipe uses 1/4 - $0.60
Butter - $2.99/lb, recipe uses 1/2 - $1.50
Brown sugar - $1.89/ 2lb, recipe uses 1 cup - $0.40
Chocolate chips - $2.99/ 12 oz. bag, go ahead and use the whole bag, it's the holidays!

Without toppings, it works out to about $5.50 for the batch, which you can easily split into 4 gift bags, at least.

Add a homemade cocoa mix in a mug, or fudge, or a jar of caramel sauce, to complete a sweet treat gift for someone on your list. It makes a great teacher gift, or a unique offering at a cookie party or holiday potluck.

Homemade Maple Cream...and the Absence Thereof

Every December, I realize with a shock that I have a group of family, coworkers and acquaintances to exchange gifts with and no freaking idea what to give them. I panic trying to come up with homemmade gifts, then stay awake for hours at night in the weeks before Christmas trying to pull it off.

Last year's experiment was maple cream. (Well, last year's second experiment. Someday I will tell you about the quart of onion jam that is still in my fridge.) It's a simple recipe that involves heating maple syrup to a temperature above boiling, cooling it in a water bath and whipping it with a spoon until it gets a creamy texture and opaque color. It's beautiful, creamy, delicious and addictive. Simple, right? I used a candy thermometer, followed the directions, and the first batch came out beautifully.

The biggest problem was my stove, which is smarter than I am. I got this new GE flat cooktop stove a few months ago, and in general, I love it. I love having choices about burner size and cleaning the smooth, shiny top. I love how everything is digital and magical. But it is NOT designed for making candy. Because, you see, it is too smart to heat things above the boiling point of water, apparently. I spent about half an hour intermittently turning the stove off and then turning it back on, and switching between burners to trick the stove into staying hot enough to get the syrup to about 230 degrees. But in the end, it was a delicious success.

The second batch, however, was doomed. I didn't re-test the thermometer, because I used the same thermometer in the same pot about a week later. Everything seemed fine. I felt like I had mastered the stove, and everything was laid out for the next steps. I put the pot in a water bath, waited a respectable interval, dipped the wooden spoon into the pot and, as it hit the surfce of the syrup, it went, "clank." I don't know if you know, but "clank" is not the sound of creamy things. It is the sound of solid objects hitting other solid objects.

I tried to reheat the syrup,  which seemed like a possible way to get the syrup out of the pan and maybe even salvage some maple hard candy, somehow. Until the volcano of burned maple started puffing out from the edge of the candy's surface. You see, when you heat a solid, it gets warm on the bottom first, and if the heat can't escape through the surface, it burns like freshmen on spring break.

I decided to make fudge instead.

And that's why there was a pot of cloudy brown liquid in my sink, if you happened to wonder during the Christmas party. Thanks for not asking.

DIMDS in the kitchen...with less

I am a great one for bookmarking (and now pinning) recipes and projects to save for "someday" when I have the right tools/materials/space/time. But guess what? I hardly ever do. I watched my mom put aside projects and recipes that we didn't have the space or materials for my whole life and watched her never get around to them again. And you know what? It sucked, and she regrets it.

I felt the same way about home cooking, especially filling my freezer with delicious home-cooked convenience food so I could rely less on cans and drive-thrus. It would be great to have delicious, healthy, frugal food in the house at all times. It would be great if...(if I had the space, if I had a big freezer, if I had a bag sealer, if I had enough storage containers, if I had a week to do it and clean up, if we ate more casseroles) And then I kind of decided to just shut up and go for it. I took some of the recipes I had been meaning to try and decided to make them work, even the ones that call for a dutch oven, a food processor, or sizes and shapes of equipment that I don't have.

I bought a slow-cooker last year. It's kind of the wrong size for me, because five quarts is too big for 1 or 2 people, but it is awesome for a whole pork roast or beef roast. Which, in turn, is awesome for my freezer. Same with a whole crock of marinara or refried beans. Between the slow-cooker and the freezer, it is surprisingly easy to make home-cooked meals that I can pull out later at a moment's notice. I'm always surprised when I do it how easy it is, but I haven't quite made it a routine.

When I was going through a crazy cooking weekend recently, with 2 kinds of beans, marinara, plus dinner for 4 and a loaf of bread, I realized I didn't really have that many tools out. I kept out a cutting board, chef's knife, peeler, and my 9-inch cast iron skillet, which I have been carefully seasoning for about a year now. I have finally gotten it to the point where it cleans up really easily and it is basically everything good about non-stick with only a fraction of the worry about scratching it. During this weekend of mega-cooking, I went through every wooden spoon in the house and a couple of saucers-as-spoon-rests. And you know what? It all worked out just fine, and I managed 3 meals with only one load of dishes in the dishwasher.

Although I often pine for the day that I will have everything I could possibly want at my fingertips in my kitchen, I often come back to earth with a thud when I realize that someone (and it would inevitably be me) would have to wash all that fancy stuff and put it away again. And really, there are very few things I can't do with my simple kitchen equipment.

Here are what I believe to be the basics for Cooking It My Damn Self:

• Large skillet, stainless steel or seasoned cast iron (you can get old cast iron cheap from a yard sale or thrift store and re-season it)
• 4 to 6 qt heavy-bottomed soup pot
• A couple saucepans with lids
• Chef's knife, kept sharp
• Paring knife
• Cutting board - plastic goes in the dishwasher, which is great if you sometimes use it for meat, or vegetables that stain
• A set of wooden spoons
• A set of rubber spatulas
• Can opener
• Vegetable peeler
• Cheese grater
• Measuring cups
• Measuring spoons

When the time comes, it's nice to have a potato masher (for potatoes or beans), a whisk for baking, some baking pans, and I do love my slow cooker. But I could eat pretty well with none of these things. Luckily, I once had a roommate who foolishly bought lots of expensive kitchen stuff and then flew to another city to become rich and famous and left me lots of nice things. I've also gotten some fabulous gifts, like my chef's knife, a set of cookie sheets and some mixing bowls that have made my cooking easier and more pleasant. Other than that, the cheap stuff and hand-me-downs have held up just fine, thanks.

My kitchen is by no means complete. There is still a list of things I would love to have that I think would let me cook different kinds of food, or in more appropriate quantities. For example, I have my mother's old Kitchenaid, but the attachments got lost when one of us moved and need to be replaced. If I had an stick blender I would be the smoothie QUEEN! If I had a food processor, nothing would stand between me and a freezer full of pesto. I could even use a second loaf pan in case I ever decide to double my bread output.

But for now, I'm happy with my fairly simple little kitchen. What kitchen essentials can you not live without? What has turned out to be a waste of money or space?

Slow Cooker Marinara

My new blog crush is Budget Bytes. I referred to Beth's recipe for crockpot refried beans when I went bean crazy recently, and I pinned her black bean quesadillas and slow cooker marinara, among other recipes. Now I am drooling over her no-knead breads, so jealous of how fluffy they are!! (My last few loaves have been a little dense, but tasty.)

One feature I love on her site is the cost breakdown for her meals. I'm on a self-imposed low food budget, and I'm trying to do as much make-ahead convenience food as I can for when my school and work schedules pick up in the fall.

I decided to try the Budget Bytes slow cooker marinara, since I had the crockpot out from yesterday's beans, anyway. Plus I am having fantasies about freezers full of homemade food.


I increased the recipe based on what I had, so I used:
2 large cans (28 oz.) crushed tomatoes
1 large can tomato puree (what's the difference in terms of how they work in a sauce? no clue.)
1 6 oz can tomato paste
2 yellow onions, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp salt
1 TBSP sugar
1 1/2 TBSP balsamic vinegar
3 bay leaves
fresh ground black pepper
1/2 cup fresh basil, chopped

I chucked everything in the slow cooker except the basil, and set it on low for 8 hours. There were 2 reasons for waiting on the basil. First, I didn't want to cook fresh herbs in the slow cooker for 8 hours, because I thought it would be a waste. Second, I didn't have pants on anyway and the basil is growing out back.

The cost came out a bit lower than the Budget Bytes' breakdown, not that I'm competitive or anything, mostly because I got my tomatoes on sale.
3 cans of tomatoes, $0.67 each = $2.00
1 can tomato paste, $0.50
2 onions, who knows, can we call it $0.50?
Spices - let's call them a dollar so I don't have to do that math.

So for roughly $4.00, I have the equivalent of 3 jars and change of homemade pasta sauce. Considering I buy my jarred sauce at rock bottom prices, unless it's an emergency, I think I will probably break even on cost and come out ahead on flavor. I'll take it!

The verdict: It's smooth and has a deep flavor, a little bitter. It's a little much just on bread, but perfect on a bowl of pasta. I added some red pepper flakes and garlic powder at the end, and totally forgot to put the fresh basil in. I have to use some basil before the bugs eat the rest of it. Ugh. I bagged it in quart bags, squished them flat, and put 4 bags in the freezer, right on top of my crockpot refried beans. It's going to be a delicious fall!

Just How Much Do I Want to DIY?

My basic philosophy is that if I DIMDS, I will spend less, learn more and get better results. I'm at a stage in my life where it's worth investing the time in learning how to cook, do repairs and maintenance on my house, and make or build things out of found materials. If I learn to paint now, it will save me thousands over my lifetime in home updates. If I start collecting a good set of basic tools and corresponding know-how, I will gradually master home repair and again, save money in the long run. Most importantly, I want the knowledge to effectively hire experts when I need them and know I'm being treated fairly.

Beyond the basic stuff, there are lots of projects that are very tempting, like this recipe for homemade dishwasher detergent. They remind me of being a kid and mixing together either condiments or cosmetics to come up with some brand-new-never-before-tried creation that would wow my mom and win the hearts of the media. It's science!!

But how much time and money will they really save me over the store brand dry dishwasher detergent? I have set my hourly rate for these projects at $20, because I figure that's what it would take to get me to take on an extra part-time job. For less than $20, I would be better off staying home and getting caught up on chores and reading.

The other day, I got lost down the rabbit hole of DIY/frugal/sustainable projects online. I kept picking up my head and saying to Kevin, "What would you do if I started making my own ___?" I suggested bread, dish detergent, laundry soap, bath soap, taco seasoning, English muffins, curtains, and I still had half a dozen tabs open.

His response? "I would hope you would get bored with it soon and find something that is a more efficient use of your time." OK, so the man has a point. I am a person with a highly specialized skill set. People pay me both directly (when I tutor) and indirectly (when I work for a school district) to teach their children. And yet, and YET, what I really want is to make my own soap sometimes.

There are some things, like bread, where I definitely get a superior product for a lower price, at least during the summer when my schedule is flexible and I can be home to mix up a batch of no-knead bread dough and attend to it 12 hours later. I would love to do a little more wine-making (we've done a few small experiments) for variety and self-sufficiency.

Then there are other things, like laundry soap, that might save me money, but maybe the product isn't as good? And there are some things, like bath soap, that are just not worth the investment in learning, equipment and materials. Frankly, whatever bar soap is on sale is good enough for me. So I don't know where to draw the line.

My rule of thumb is if the project requires a minimal investment, and not too much time, then I should give it a shot. At worst, I'll learn something and gain a new appreciation for cheap, abundant products and their artisan equivalents. What do you think? When is it worth giving DIY a whirl, and when is it time to leave it up to the professionals?

Rush-Seated Chair

I explained to a co-worker once that I know if I ever went to an animal shelter, I would come home with a near-sighted, 3-legged dog with chronic asthma and the mange. I just pick the thing that needs the most love and attention. She suggested I never get married.


I am the same way about furniture. I have this impulse to uncover the good in each ratty table and chair at the curb, even when it's clearly not worth the time, or the money, to repair and refinish. Sometimes the magic works, and sometimes it doesn't.

This rush-seated chair, which my dad inherited from his aunts, is one of my proudest furniture rescues. It fell over one night and one of the spindles on top broke. I glued it inexpertly, against my mother's advice, and left it in my room when I went to college. Years later, it ended up in my apartment in desperate need of refinishing and a new rush seat.

First, I cut away the old rush and the cardboard padding in the seat of the chair.

Then I used Citristrip to remove the old stain from the wood. Scrubbing the finish out of the woodwork on the legs was beastly, and it ended up still darker than the rest of the chair. I wiped the whole thing down with a tack cloth. I always think there must be a better way, every time I try to jam that sticky cloth back into a bag for storage.

This project is even more absurd when I remember that I managed it in a 550-square-foot apartment with wall-to-wall carpeting and no outdoor space.

When I finally had the wood clean and sanded, I coated it with stain. I have always used old pantyhose to rub on stain, which becomes harder every year because I am pleased to report that my life rarely requires pantyhose.

I put two coats of polyurethane on the chair frame and got a nice, semi-gloss finish. The wood has some really cool color effects that I never noticed as a kid because the stain was dark and covered with a hefty layer of nicotine. Mmm, nicotine.

Then came the fun part. I bought a roll of paper rush and a little how-to pamphlet from Cane and Reed in Manchester, Connecticut, because it's conveniently near my parents' place. I hoped that buying the materials in a store instead of online would get me some advice or at least some encouragement for my project. I didn't find it at Cane and Reed, but they had what I needed and it didn't cost much.

As you can see, I mostly used materials that I had around the house as place holders - binder clips, pencils and pens. Not only did I not know I would need these things before I got started, I still prefer to scavenge materials from my desk.

I followed the instructions in the book to weave the chair seat. The hardest part about the project was keeping the rush damp, but not too damp, and keeping the weaving even and taut. I used pieces torn from brown paper bags to fill the chair seat starting when I was halfway done, and I hope somewhere I put the date inside the seat, because I know that was all part of the plan.

I finished the chair seat by treating it with Johnson's Floor Wax rubbed into the rush seat and melted in with a hair dryer. This strengthens the paper rush and protects it from moisture and some wear. I repeated the waxing a few weeks after the first coat and, now that I think of it, should probably do it again.

It's definitely not a chair for everyday use, as the rush will wear, but it looks great in the corner and I'm really proud of putting it back in circulation. I just wish the stupid cat didn't like it so much.

There's a woven-seat rocking chair out on the porch, that was hear when I bought the house. Someday it will get the same treatment. Stay tuned!

This Old Hedge

When I moved into this house, it had a Hedge. Not a hedge, like a little group of shrubs providing some kind of border or visual accent in my yard, but a Hedge, designed to fend off invading armies. Once upon a time, it was privet. Once upon a time, it was probably only man-sized, too, but by 2011, it was threatening to overtake my front yard. This is the day I closed on the house, from the street...

And from the inside of the yard...

My aunts came to visit in the spring and in the course of a quiet Saturday visit, it was suggested that maybe we should trim the hedge. I said I was planning to take it out, but my aunt said, "Let's trim it and see how it looks. You don't want to give up such a nice hedge! We can cut it back and it will fill in and look lovely!"

It looked better. It really did. I tried to leave it and let it fill in. Really, I tried to love it, but it was choked with wild roses, bittersweet, and maple saplings. For like, a week, I tried to get used to this new hedge profile, and to appreciate the way it protected my front lawn and gave me privacy. But it was SO ugly and I hated it.

And luckily, my brother likes to dig stuff up. So, since he had a lot of the summer off, I persuaded him to go to town on the hedge. I did a couple hours of digging, sure, but he did the bulk of it. By September, it looked like this.

That big rock in the foreground of the photo was in a the ground among the bushes. We had to dig and lever it out. I think it will become part of the new walkway to my back door...someday. For now, it will just live in the front yard, where it makes the grass impossible to mow.

So now I have a blank slate. I'd like to move the front plantings, some low stuff, a little closer to the road than the hedge was. I did plant some grass, but mostly the weeds (and poison ivy) took over. The soil is terrible and sandy there, and the level of the soil is much lower than the lawn around it. It's basically a huge mess, but it is MY huge mess, and that counts for something.

Eventual plans:
-death to poison ivy in the front yard!
-a bed of low, grassy plants mixed with seasonal flowers
-2 dwarf apple trees in the front yard
-rework the flower/weed bed in front of the windows and the one next to the driveway, before they consume my entire front yard.
-keep one extra parking space in front of the house to supplement the driveway and leave the rest for growing things I actually choose
-use that big rock and a couple others to form an entry to the side yard, possibly with some kind of archway or gate