Family entries
For the past few months, my newfound love for easy homemade bread got sidelined by my difficulties with excema. Even easy bread sort of requires being able to use both hands. So it was back to the Costco multigrain loaves for sandwiches and toast.
It’s always pained my frugal soul that a certain amount of every storebought loaf is wasted; the younger kidlet balks at crusts, and nobody likes the heels, me included. I tried saving them for breadcrumbs but … I just don’t usually cook things that require breadcrumbs.
Until I got the brilliant idea a couple months ago to try them in bread pudding. Now, I can’t be the first person to have thought of this, but it was quite a leap for me, as I only ate bread pudding for the first time a year or two ago, and had never tried cooking it. (For those of you who, like me, are new to the idea: it’s not actually pudding, but more of a custard. The bread gets very soaked and … un-breadlike in the process.)
I wanted to share my bread pudding technique. I can’t call it a recipe; I tend not to follow recipes unless I’m baking (and sometimes not even then), and I rely more on looks and taste than measurements. Bread pudding is perfect for this, as it’s one of the most forgiving dishes ever.
Bread pudding recipes call for white bread, preferably French, which we don’t eat. But whole wheat and multigrain crusts and heels work quite well. (Not rye though — flavor’s all wrong.) We go through bread quickly enough that I can usually keep the crusts in the fridge, but if you’re worried about mold just keep a container in the freezer and thaw when you’re ready to make the bread pudding.
Never one to pass up an opportunity to get extra vegetables into my family, I went for a pumpkin variation. (I always have canned pumpkin around — I pick up extra when it goes on sale around Thanksgiving and Christmas.)
Pumpkin Bread Pudding Ingredients:
- bread crusts and heels, torn into small-bite pieces
- dried cranberries or raisins (optional)
- butter
- canned pumpkin
- eggs
- cream, half-and-half, or milk
- sugar, brown sugar, or Splenda
- spices: any of vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and/or allspice
I’m not including quantities here because you’ve got a huge amount of leeway in the proportions. If you have fewer eggs, or less milk, or only a partial can of pumpkin, no worries! It’s almost impossible to mess this up.
This latest time I had about ten cups of bread crust bits, which completely filled a 9″x13″ baking dish, so all my listed amounts are relative to that. You could go with as few as four cups of bread or maybe even three, in a smaller dish.
With the ten cups of bread I used an entire 29-ounce can of pumpkin (more vitamin A!), but a 15-ounce can would have worked fine too, or anything in-between. I used four eggs, but you’re safe with anything from two to five. I used two cups of half-and-half, then (because I had so much pumpkin) thinned the mixture with a little extra skim milk. If you’re worried about fat content, use milk alone, or all cream if you want it really rich. Again, the actual amount is highly flexible — ultimately, all that matters is that you can pour the resulting mixture … more like a batter than a dough.
We try to keep a low-glycemic diet around here, so I used pourable Splenda. White or brown sugar also works, of course. One cup made for a lightly sweet pudding, but you can adjust to taste. I also prefer the slight tartness of cranberries over raisins. Generously add spice — whatever from the list above you have on hand, to taste. This last time I used some of everything except the allspice, including fresh minced ginger (because I had roots but no powder).
Preparation couldn’t be easier:
- Melt some butter in a shallow baking dish.
- Put the torn bread bits in, tossing them around a bit.
- If you’re adding dried fruit, sprinkle that on top of the bread.
- Mix everything else in a separate bowl and pour it evenly over the top.
- Bake at 350° until the custard is set — probably between 20 and 40 minutes.
I like it warm with just a touch of maple syrup drizzled over the top. I guarantee even the pickiest kidlet will eat their crusts when served like this!
(Photo by minjungkim.)
If tough economic times are causing you stress, you can bet your kids are picking up on the tension as well. Knowing how much to tell them about financial matters can be tricky; you don’t want to overburden and worry them, but neither do you want to leave them surprised and unprepared.
I thought the movie Kit Kittredge: An American Girl made a terrific springboard for discussion with our kids, especially the younger one. Set in the middle of the Great Depression, the movie touches on economic issues — like unemployment, foreclosure, and homelessness — in a way that kids can relate to. The point-of-view character is a spunky ten-year-old girl who learns to cope with various changes that result from financial hardship.
It’s a fun movie, and so doesn’t come off as preachy or boring; the second half is basically a caper mystery, where intrepid children discover the truth that adults can’t see and chase down the bad guys, who are more comical than actually scary. Before the silliness, though, there is a lot of grounding in the Great Depression setting. Despite some grim events — her friend’s family loses their house to foreclosure; her own father loses his business and winds up eating in the soup kitchen — the overall tone of the movie is one of stubborn cheerfulness.
I’d guess ages six to twelve will get the most out of this movie. Our younger daughter was nine, and watching it sparked discussions about things from soup kitchens to the basics of mortgages and foreclosures. Here are a few more ideas for conversations with your kids based on scenarios in Kit Kittredge:
- Kit’s family begins to keep chickens and sell the eggs for extra income. What things might we do to generate extra cash?
- Kit’s mother sews dresses out of feedsack calico to save money. What storebought things can we try making at home more cheaply?
- Some of Kit’s classmates make fun of other kids for egg-selling and homemade dresses. Have you ever been teased or embarrassed about not having much money? What’s a good way to react?
- Kit’s father has to go to another city in search of a job, while her mother rents out rooms in their large house to make ends meet. What lifestyle changes might be in store for our family? How will we adapt to these changes?
A recent conversation on the Get Rich Slowly forum about finances and children caught my eye — specifically, how do you balance the desire to give your children everything they want (or everything you did or didn’t have) with the practical need to limit expenses?
This is an issue that Jak and I negotiate regularly, because we have very different natural approaches. He is a pushover susceptible to unplanned financial generosity where the children are concerned, whereas I am a tightwad firmly grounded in the practical.
For example, we recently signed up for an expensive orthodontic regime for Michaela, who is fifteen. Jak and I agreed to pay extra for the best medical treatment but for none of the short-term cosmetic-only ‘upgrades’ that were offered, like clear or colored braces.
All was fine until, at the second ortho visit, Michaela started begging Daddy for the clear braces, which instantly triggered Jak’s kid-generosity reflex and returned the intra-parental negotiations to square one.
For my part, I remain relatively unswayed by pleading children. In Round Two negotiations what I proposed to Jak was this: we tell Michaela that we aren’t going to pay for the clear braces, but that if they are really important to her, she could earn the money herself between August and December (when the braces actually go on). This would be an achievable goal, as she earns $5/hour for chores at our house, including babysitting her younger sister, and occasionally earns more for babysitting elsewhere, along with money her mother pays her. (Currently she spends money almost as fast as she makes it, mostly on movies, at coffeeshops, and on the occasional expensive trendy clothing item.)
Privately, Jak and I agreed that if Michaela were motivated to earn the entire amount, we would surprise her by paying half, leaving her with $150 of her savings. My thought was that if Michaela weren’t willing to sacrifice anything to get the more unobtrusive braces, we shouldn’t be expected to do so. But if she proved she was willing to put in the extra effort, we would reward her by helping. This plan would have the added benefit of giving her more experience at saving and making tough financial choices, something I’ve been actively looking to promote.
Jak relayed the plan to Michaela — minus the secret match — and she dropped the whole idea. I think Jak was a little nonplussed that her desperate pleading had so easily turned to nonchalance, but I was unsurprised: like most kids, I think she values her own time and money very highly but has little concept of the cost to adults of either. Eventually, she will learn … before she’s a full adult herself, if I can manage it.
Despite the fact that Michaela didn’t ‘take the bait’ and choose to save for something she wanted, I think this was a very good approach, and plan to use it often over the next three years. Eventually there will be something that she is motivated to sacrifice for, and she’ll get that experience. In the meantime, we saved $300.
Read the forum conversation for some other good thoughts from parents about balancing generosity with financial limits.
(Photo by Pingu1963.)
