Pretzels, pretzels everywhere

I am happy to report that this, a Tuesday, is actually my Friday. I have the rest of the holiday week off and I plan to relax as much as I can in between visits and feasting.

One thing I do not want to do is have to throw elbows with all the last-minute shoppers at the grocery store tomorrow. And I definitely don't want to spend tons of time in the kitchen fretting over what to take to the family potluck.

Luckily, I have a go-to food that makes for quick and easy deliciousness.

Yep. Pretzels.

Full disclosure: I'm not much of a plain pretzel fan. They taste kind of burnt and I don't like salty foods. I do, however, like salty foods that are also sweet. That just knocks my socks off. And there are a million things you can do with a simple bag of pretzels, like that $1 beauty pictured above.

So, if you are stumped on what to take to the potluck Thursday ... or a week from Saturday ... or on Christmas Eve ... or New Year's Day ... I'm here on the eve of Thanksgiving Eve to offer three easy (so, so very easy) snacks - dare I say desserts - that will take you and your co-diners to salty/sweet heaven.

And did I mention how easy they are?

Oh, and inexpensive ... did I tell you that?

And great gifts, too? Yes, they are.

Let's take a look.

Idea 1: Dipped pretzel rods.

This is the easiest.

White choc with milk choc drizzle.

White choc with sprinkles.

White choc with crushed M&Ms sprinkled.

Just buy a $1 store brand bag of pretzel rods (it's okay if they are broken) and melt some cheap (store brand works great) white (almond or vanilla) or chocolate bark according to package directions. Grab your pretzel by one end and dip it in the melted chocolate and then place on wax paper. Let them "set" at room temp and store in an airtight container. Total time: maybe 20 minutes. If even that long.

They taste great plain, but if you want to get festive, just add sprinkles (before the chocolate sets), or drizzles. A fun way to display them is upright in a little bucket of M&Ms (red and green for Christmas, perhaps) or Robin's Eggs candies at Easter, like below.

This is an easy grab-and-go treat that kids and adults love. Stretch your portions even further by breaking them in half and dipping the broken end.

Idea 2: Cinnamon pretzels

That's cinnamon and sugar sticking to that pretzel-y goodness, baby.

Oh, these are yum. And they make great gifts for friends, neighbors, teachers, me.

Super easy and it makes a huge batch. I got the recipe from Midwest Living years ago and I am going to send you there for it. You might notice there's one review for the recipe. Yep - that's me; I wrote it. Just spreading the word.

Perfect snack for curling up in front of the TV on movie night.

Idea 3: Salted caramel chocolate pretzel bark

Oh my.

I cannot even explain how good this is. Shannan Martin of Flower Patch Farmgirl turned me on to this and I will love her with undying devotion forever.

And ever.

Here's her recipe. Do this. Don't be afraid. It's crazy easy and utterly addictive in the worst of all the best ways.

And read her blog. I love her for more than just her crack bark recipe ... though we've never met, which makes me creepy, I know.

Pretty sure she'd love me too. If she knew me.

Anyway ...

I hope you enjoy these salty sweet deals, and please let me know of any super easy pretzel recipes of yours.

After all, good food is even better when shared with friends.

In the kitchen with friends

"Life is a journey, not a destination." Ralph Waldo Emerson

There's a chunk of tomato in my hair.

I'm not sure how it got there, but I know where it came from: my kitchen. I canned salsa today, made from tomatoes from my garden.

My kitchen cabinet earlier today.

Adorning my kitchen windowsill in one form or another for weeks now.

In the frenzy of chopping, slicing, boiling, sealing, measuring, cooling, etc., it seems I managed to splat some tomato-y goodness in my hair. I have red hair, so who knows how long it would have stayed there, had I not smacked my noggin on the fridge door and felt my scalp for bleeding (none) and found tomato instead (lots).

I'm like a dainty princess that way.

Making and canning salsa from fresh garden goodies is an annual tradition. Plus, I am a salsa addict, especially the fresh stuff, so this keeps my cravings in check year-round. The nice thing about it today is the fact I had help in the kitchen. Lindsay, a friend and co-worker, wanted not only the yummy salsa recipe, but also to learn how to preserve it. So I invited her over this morning and we set about the fine art of preserving.

Lindsay, in my kitchen, mixing up some goodness.

Our finished product.

I was able to show Lindsay how to do this because my friend, Julie, showed me how to do so a few years ago. Julie gave our family a jar of her homemade salsa as a gift one year for Christmas and I was hooked. I made her promise to share the recipe and teach me how to preserve. She was true to her word that following summer and thus began the tradition.

Here's where Julie got the recipe that she shared with me and I, in turn, shared with Lindsay today. I have to mention I don't use hot peppers ... and that one-hour total time estimate? Wrong. It takes about three to four hours for a double batch.  

In my last post, I talked about missing the opportunity to master culinary skills from my mother, who was an amazing cook. While I cannot cook with my mom, I have been blessed to share my kitchen with good friends, as well as get to learn from them in their own kitchens. My husband? Quite the dandy cook himself and never shy from lending a hand or going full-on chef for any meal.

My husband brings home a fresh bouquet for the kitchen ... just because.

It's so nice to learn and teach in the kitchen. So nice to have someone with whom to split the workload and clean-up. Yes, the meal - or in today's case, the salsa - is the final destination, but the journey is one of conversation, listening, sharing, planning, laughter.

Oh sure, sometimes you get tomatoes in your hair.

Still, it is a journey best taken with good friends and those you love.

Learning to cook

"There is no sincerer love than a love of food." - George Bernard Shaw

My mom was a good cook.

Actually, that's not true. She was an amazing cook.

That is no exaggeration. You would be amazed - utterly, wholly amazed - at how delicious her fried chicken was. From the crispy crunch of the spicy battered skin, to the tender, moist meat itself, this bird was above and beyond the stuff you were buying in a bucket. The regulars she fed at the little diners where she worked often wondered how that petite spitfire could conjure such gratifying meals day after day.

It was her gift.

It was a gift, however, I didn't care to receive. At least not in my youth.

I loved and appreciated my mother's cooking - and so did all my friends - but I also saw what a chore and burden it was. Mom worked hard and she came home exhausted from being on her feet all day, standing over steam tables, with grills and ovens raging in the background. Her creativity was met with little in the form of wages, as is often the case with an artist. And there were always dishes to be washed, counters disinfected, ovens wiped. After cooking all day, she turned around and whipped up amazing (yes, amazing) dinners on a nightly basis at home. And, again, there were always dishes to be washed, counters disinfected, ovens wiped.

This was not appealing to me. So she taught my siblings how to cook, but I didn't seek her tutelage.

And then she was gone.

With her went not only the technical knowledge - the chemistry of flavor and measurement and preparation - but also the feelings ... the love that she infused into each act ...  for that was truly the essence of her cooking. You see, her gift was not just the ability to cook the food, but it was the gift of sharing - the food, herself, her heart, her soul. She served love every day and every night.

So here I am in my 40s, teaching myself how to cook. I could always make the basics with no complaints from my crew here; both my husband and son have rather bland culinary tastes. But as I've matured, I've yearned to extend more heart into what I prepare. I better understand what cooking meant to my mother because it is beginning to mean something to me beyond sustenance. The preparation is less a chore and more a labor of love. Love that is meant to be shared.

I pretty much use a trial-and-error method, experimenting with recipes and then tweaking them to suit my tastes.

My version of chicken tortilla soup. Chicken, rice, salsa, corn - served with tortilla chips.

I cannot call my mom and ask for advice; cannot hand her a spoon for a nibble to see if the sauce needs more garlic; cannot serve her a meal on simple Corelle dishes as she did for me so very many times.

But I can honor her memory by preparing each meal with heart, sharing not only food, but also the gift that comes from the love of giving to others.

"Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all." - Harriet Van Horne