Warm Saltine Crackers Are Delicious

Every once in a while I stumble upon a grand idea. I realize others may have already discovered the same thing, but when I actually experience it, somehow it becomes more real. Isn’t that the way with almost anything? A physical experience writes knowledge on you in a way that reading about it cannot fully convey.

So, read this article to get the idea, but then go do it for yourself. It is quick, easy and painless. Unless you burn your fingers.

My experience started with a stale sleeve of saltines.

I was making soup, and what goes best with any kind of soup? Crackers. Not fancy water crackers, or wheat thins or even Ritz crackers, but plain basic saltines.

Since the invention of this iconic cracker, saltines have classically accompanied soup.

Many have used these inexpensive crackers to extend a simple bowl of soup into a meal. In the Great Depression, many a cracker was crumbled into a thin broth soup to fill hungry bellies. The habit of crumbling crackers into soup continues as a comfort food, even when food is plentiful.

But stale saltines?

Somehow, it just isn’t the same. 

Filling, yes. Satisfying, no.

There have been times in my life when stale saltines went out for the birds. As I became more conscious of food waste, I could not think of throwing out an entire sleeve of crackers. After cursing the packaging breach that allowed moisture to render the crackers unpalatable, it was time to pivot.

What to do?

Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I recalled crackers could be crisped in the oven. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain by giving it a shot.

I couldn’t remember any directions about how long it might take to crisp up stale crackers, so as I often do, I guessed. By monitoring color change through the oven window and paying attention to the aroma in the air, I hit upon a success.

Another technique I use often is starting food in a cold oven, allowing the food to come to temperature along with the oven. This saves a bit of time. Plus, if moving a glass baking dish straight from the refrigerator to the oven, it helps prevent the pan from shattering because of the sudden temperature change.

Back to the saltines.

Pour out an entire sleeve of crackers onto a small baking sheet. It doesn’t matter if they are in a single layer or not; dump out the crackers and shake to semi-distribute. Pop them in the oven on the middle rack. Set the temperature to 350º and turn it on. Monitor closely until the crackers reach your desired color. Remove from the oven, and slide into a serving bowl. 

Eat warm.

Easy as this is, there are a couple of things to keep in mind. First, you need to get to know your oven. In my electric oven, the crackers are nicely browned and crispy at exactly the same moment the oven reaches 350 degrees. Second, it is quite handy to have a window in the oven door. I am not sure why windowless ovens were ever created, but I will never buy one.

One step better.

If you want to raise your game one more step, before baking, shake the crackers in a baggie with a small amount of melted butter and the seasoning of your choice. I recommend 1 1/2 tablespoons of melted butter and 1 teaspoon of seasoning to one sleeve of crackers. Open up your spice cabinet and think outside the cracker box. Try a bit of freshly cracked pepper. Paprika comes to life and offers a warming addition. I like steak seasoning on almost anything, not just for meat. Think chili-seasoned crackers to accompany a hot bowl of chili soup.

Now I crisp saltines every time I make soup. Not only when they have gone stale. Even without any additional seasoning, the slight browning gives crackers a new flavor profile that is distinct from the bland saltines straight from the box. It is possible this even makes the cheap saltines better so you can save money not buying an expensive name brand.

This simple technique elevates the humble saltine into an ethereal experience. Imagine warm, lightly browned crackers spread with soft butter beginning to melt. Delicious and simple.

Now, go straight to the kitchen and warm up your saltines. You know you want to.

Meteorological Fall

Today, September 1, is the first day of meteorological fall.

Over the past few years, I’ve noted new weather terms.

—Derecho
—Atmospheric river
—Firenado

And each of the seasons preceded by the word “meteorological”.

Maybe this concept has been around for a long time and I just didn’t notice. Entirely possible. I suspect that since the expansion into 24-hour news and weather; we get a lot more data and information than we used to when Walter Cronkite was telling us what we needed to know in half an hour. The news and weather forecasters have to fill up all that time with something.

All conjecturing aside, I delved into just exactly what this specific weather term means.

It turns out to be very simple.

The actual dates of the four seasons can vary by a day or so. Spring may arrive on March 20 or 21. Fall this year shows up on September 22 at 1:19 PM, Central Daylight Time, in the Northern Hemisphere. The precise moment the center of the sun will cross the equatorial line in its trek from north to south. On one of the two equinoxes each year, we will have roughly the same amount of daylight and dark.

For those who track and monitor weather, this shift of date presents a problem. One year, people could attribute a temperature to summer, and the next year, they could credit the same date to the fall records.

Enter the meteorological seasons.

The system divides the year into equal quarters for record keeping.

December – February is meteorological winter
March – May is meteorological spring
June – August is meteor0logical summer
September – November is meteorological fall

There you have it.

Happy Meteorological Fall!

Open Your Junk Mail: A Public Service Announcement

The post office is still delivering loads of mail each and every day. Fewer personal cards and letters after the proliferation of email, but still plenty of stuff. 

Ads for house washing. 

New carpets. 

A sale announcement for windows and / or siding. 

Then there are the smaller-ticket items. Each week we receive a set of coupons. Local stores, national chains, things I don’t want or need.

Random letters from credit unions.

Wait, what?

A  year ago, I saw a return address from an affiliated credit union*. The kind where you have to be in a certain group of people to join. Like the Plumbers Union or whatever. I wasn’t a member of this particular group, so I just pitched the letter.

A few weeks later, another one arrived. This time I opened it. The letter honestly looked fairly official. I think I’m onto how email scams work, but this was a hard copy letter, so I carefully read and reread.

It was asking me to set up direct deposit of my paycheck so I could take full advantage of the checking account I had opened. 

To be safe, I didn’t call any phone numbers in the letter. I Googled the credit union and called its main customer service number. 

It had happened again.

Two years earlier, I was the victim of identity theft. Someone stole my information, opened a credit union credit card and took off with around $10k. It took me a few months to figure out what happened and, gratefully, after a police report and a few phone calls, the account was closed without me having to pay.

Even though I did not lose any money out of pocket, my credit rating took a hit. Now I watch that religiously for any new lines of credit. 

But a checking account?

It was clear the crooks planned to trick me into having automatic funds deposited so they could go on a shopping spree. No way was I moving any money into an account I didn’t originate!

When I called, the credit union* advised the account had already been marked as fraudulent. I wish I knew how they figured that out without my input, but I’m thankful. 

Now I have everything locked down as much as possible. I unsubscribe and delete emails and texts that I am not 100% positive about. 

I open every bit of mail and look through it.

Open your junk mail, folks. 

*I purposely did not name the specific credit union because you know….fraud.

A Day In The Life Of The Farm

Curious about a typical day on a small acreage?

Retired life is supposed to be days filled with sunshine, books, and relaxation.

At least that’s the illusion I had when I planned to leave the 8:30 AM to 5:00PM day job as a social worker.

Who am I kidding? How many days did I go in early, stay late, work on-call, travel overnight, and sit in the office making call after call to find a placement for a child?

A difficult career in child welfare, but also rewarding. Thirty years was enough, though, and I headed into retirement.

Some days, I refer to my life now as a second career as a writer. While that’s true, I write both fiction and nonfiction, I also help run this small farm we call home.

Recently was one of those days when nothing quite seemed to fall into place. Actually, there have been several of those days over the past few months.

Making matters worse are the days of dangerously high heat and humidity. That, besides some extended family responsibilities, push outside work to the very early morning hours.

Since one of the riding mowers was in the repair shop for close to a month, we took turns on the one mower that ran. It’s not ideal, but we made it work.

Until one day.

Nearing the end of the mowing session, the belt broke on the deck.

Great. The yard wasn’t finished, our time was limited and now there was no working mower on the property.

“It’s only a belt.” I said to myself. “I can run into town, get the belt on, and the rest of the yard will get mowed before lunch.”

I should have known better.

It took 3 stops and 1 hour to find the right belt. The farm store and our usual repair shop didn’t have the right one in stock. So off to the next town to a John Deere dealer.

Belt in hand, I checked YouTube for instructions. Between that and the diagram on the belt label, it looked easy enough.

Nothing ever goes as smoothly as you hope, but after an hour of labor, interrupted by lunch and managing another commitment, the belt was on and the yard finished.

What started as a serious frustration ended with self-satisfaction at being able to repair the mower.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring. 

Whatever it is, will be a far cry from social work.