The Ends of the Bread Loaf – Eat or Throw Away?

You know the ends of bread loaves….does anyone use these in a sandwich? Or do you end up throwing them out because no one in your house will eat a sandwich made with the ends of the bread loaf? That is what I used to do.
Next question: do you buy packaged croutons or breadcrumbs? We make Caesar salads and I love garlic croutons. We also like to bread chicken breast strips with grated parmesan cheese mixed in with the breadcrumbs.

Croutons from the store in a box are expensive and we use them up quickly. Bread crumbs, like store bought croutons, are usually made from white bread and have seasonings or additives I do not want.

So I was looking at the bag at the back of the refrigerator with the ends of the bread in it and I see another bag with ends in it. Then it hits me! There is a third choice beyond eat them or throw the ends away: Use them another way. Homemade croutons and breadcrumbs from our whole wheat bread ends.

Here is what I did for croutons:

Whole Wheat Croutons

First cut the bread in cubes and pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees.

Then spray a sheet pan with oil and add seasoning to the oiled pan. I used granulated garlic, salt and freshly ground pepper.  

 Then spread the bread cubes out in a single layer on the sheet pan. Spray the bread cubes with a little more oil and season the bread cubes from the top as well. 

Put in the oven on top shelf and “toast” for 5 minutes. Check for how brown the cubes are and toast for another 2 minutes if not brown enough. Check toasted cubes and use a spatula to turn them over and shake the pan so they are in a single layer again. Brown for 2 more minutes.

Remove from the oven and let cool completely before adding to a storage container. If you rush this step, you will have soft croutons that don’t have the crisp texture you expect from croutons.

 

Whole Wheat Breadcrumbs 

For plain bread crumbs, you can simply tear the ends into smaller pieces and toast in your oven or toaster oven until dry and slightly brown. Once cool, you can use a food processor or blender on high speed to reduce the pieces to bread crumbs. I do not season mine until I am about to use them.  I add other “end of the box” items to my breadcrumbs such as the crumbs at the bottom of cereal boxes. I have added the dust at the bottom of the cheerios box or the broken shredded wheat pieces at the bottom of that bag. Even less waste and more interesting texture to my breadcrumbs.

This is a little bit of work but I usually wait until I have about 10 or more end pieces saved (in the refrigerator so they do not mold stored on the counter.) Then on a Saturday or Sunday I make the crotons and breadcrumbs at once. Once toasted I find both the breadcrumbs and the croutons last in a sealed container in my pantry. I promise you if you are willing try this, you will never buy these two items again at the store!

Great Heights and Tall Tales

When most people talk about tall tales, there is an implication that it is an exaggerated story or perhaps completely untrue. For me however, my tall tales are very literal, very true. My tales are about being a woman who is taller than most. I do believe that one should not define themselves based on physical characteristics, ones that have been bestowed upon us based on genetics, not within our powers to change.  Despite this I do feel in my case that my height has had an influence on my perspective in life.

As a young girl in early elementary school, being tall was just another physical trait like having blue eyes or brown hair. Outside of school people did seem to think I was older than I was. As many young kids who think being older is cool, this was appreciated. Didn’t we all want to be older than we were? However as I was finishing up the 6^th grade, I looked a lot older than I was. By age 12 I had, unbeknown to me at the time, already achieved my full adult height of 5’ 10”. I was taller than all the boys and girls in my class and the teachers as well. This was simply not an optimum situation. There was one person in the school that was taller than me: My Lynch, the janitor. Good grief! Tall was not fun at this age.

Through junior high school I endured the nicknames: Bean pole, Legs, Stringbean, Stretch. You name it I was called it for my greater than normal height. At least in junior high some of the boys did eventually grow taller than me. I noticed that those tall boys really wanted to date the girls who were 5’ 2”, not Tall me. My bigger struggle now was the current fashion trends. As any of you who grew up in the 70’s may remember, there were some fashion extremes that were very prevalent: High-waisted and then very low-waisted bell bottom pants paired with high platform shoes. Miniskirts and maxi skirts were also worn by all the popular girls. Not by this girl! Think about how 3 to 4 inch platform shoes and a micro mini skirt would come across on a 5’10” 13 or 14 year old. This would not do to be all legs and 6’ 2” tall with shoes on.

On to college when finally my age caught up with how I looked. I am starting to think that being a long tall woman might turn out okay. I looked more like my peers and there were many students who were my height or taller. I decided to take dance classes so I could avoid the regular gym or sports classes to fulfill my physical fitness requirements. This turned out to be a very important decision. I was fairly good at basic dance steps. Teachers commented on how beautiful my long lines were, what a great extension I had. Hey this being tall and long was starting to work for me. I continued with dance classes and performed with a local dance troupe through most of my twenties. I loved dance and the long lines I could create with my arms and legs. The exception was in point class. When a ballet dancer is on point in toe shoes, it increases their height by 6 or more inches. This made me almost a head taller than my male dance partner. I guess performing in point shoes was not going to be an option for me.

Currently, as still a tall woman in her fifties, I have a greater appreciation of my height. My husband is a man who is 6 foot and has told me more than once he, in part, was attracted to me because I was a tall woman. Women’s fashions now come in petite, regular and tall or long depending on the brand. I did gain excellent sewing and hemming skills over the years from letting down the hems on most of my pants. For some reason people think I am the one in charge in groups perhaps just because I stand up stand and I stand out. I see this as a good thing.  In the grocery store I am frequently asked by vertically challenged customers, “Would you get that for me from the top shelf?” and I am glad to be of service. People tell me that I have a big personality, that I am loud or intense and that I stand out in a crowd. Perhaps my tall DNA did influence my personality as well. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Future of Communication – NOT!

In the past twenty or so years, technology has given us many new ways to “communicate”. From the internet to cell phones to Facebook and Twitter, people have so many new ways to interact with other people. You might think these new tools and devices would make communication easier and that we would all be closer as a result. NOT!

I want to share with you my thoughts (or perhaps my rant!) about these new technologies. Although these new ways to communicate can help connect us to others, I believe cell phones and social media have, in reality, created a false sense of what true communication is.

The connections one has in Social Media such as Facebook and Twitter has become to be a definition of how popular we are. Have you been asked how many friends you have on Facebook or followers on Twitter? The real question is how many of those friends or followers do you really know in person – face to face.  If you post some news on Facebook and no one comments or Likes it, are any of your friends listening? Can the news you want to share or tweet on Twitter really be done justice in 140 characters or less? How many followers will re-tweet it? It may leave you wondering if you had any communication at all.

Once all of the members in my family had cell phones, I began to see new and unsettling behavior in my family. Strange beeps and vibrations coming from other people’s cell phones. Is that a text, an email, a reminder? After this sound the bizarre behavior commences. Any conversation that was happening stops abruptly. In lieu of whatever was occurring, a cell phone or Ipad has now taken center stage. The fingers are tapping furiously on the touch pad of the phone or tablet in response to the beep or tone. Some text, email, picture or video has stolen away the flow of real conversation. WE are slowly transforming into one of Pavlov’s experiments. He trained dogs to respond to a beep, tone or bell. Mind you, this device is supposed keep us in touch with each other. I think it may have backfired on us as a species. 

I see my son and his friends all together to visit at our house because they haven’t SEEN each other in weeks. They are lined up on the couches and chairs all in one room yet glued to their cell phone and not visiting each other at all. Or I love this one. I am at one end of our very small house and I get a text….from my daughter who is at the other end of the house. Really? Please get up and come talk to me in person. I will admit though I do think it is cute when my husband video Skypes me from his office in the house when I am in the other office. Maybe I like this because he does it to say something sweet! I cannot completely knock these new tools because I met my husband on Match.com and that would not have happened without the internet.

These tools have not created better or real communication. Real communication involves an exchange of give and take in real time. Speaking and listening are happening together. Even email is not real communication. It lacks the facial expressions, the vocal tones and body language that give communication real depth and true meaning. I suggest we all make a pact to be renegades and just call each other up and make plans to go to lunch or have a cup of coffee. Maybe we could even turn our cell phones off during this time together. Then we might have a real communication….face to face, person to person with real voices speaking and real ears listening. Wow! How primitive and so last century that would be.

Awesomeness

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook. Just had to share.

Not Ma'am

I decided to do this blog when it occurred to me that others found my adventures in the parenting of my two teenagers amusing or strangely familiar. There is great enjoyment for me in telling stories and in making others laugh. So the Notations of the Middle aged average Mother is born.

The title of this blog, although slightly awkward, can be translated into an acronym that symbolizes my journey into middle aged life for a woman: "Not Ma'am". Do you remember the first time a cashier or a bank teller called you "Ma'am"? In my case I know I turned around to see who they were talking to. For, of course, it could not have been me they were calling Ma'am! This singular moment was, in retrospect, a game changer. No longer a miss or even a Mrs but a Ma'am. Wow! In the use of one word I became middle aged.

So I looked up what is the definition of middle age. I found this link quite informative.
http://www.middleage.org/definition.shtml
There is no definitive age where it begins and ends but it is roughly between 35 and 65 years old. No longer a young adult and not a senior yet.

Even though by definition I am middle aged, I do not feel like that inside in my mind. However I do see the few benefits that come with middle age: life experience, the wisdom to not care so much what everyone else thinks and the confidence that comes with that wisdom.

So now it is established that I am indeed middle aged and with two children I am clearly a mother. The use of the word "average" seems to be based in these truths. I know I am not the best mother even though my children have been trained to tell me so once a year on Mother's Day. My children have reached the ages of 17 and 19 and others tell me they are "good" kids. This is my basis for not being the worst mother there is.

So my journey in life as a middle aged average mother will be shared here. I hope you will find some comfort and laughter in the shared experience and leave your comments and stories here as well. Life is a dialogue and motherhood is not for the weak.