Why Dye? And How to Dye With Rit.

Why would you want to dye things?  Well, a lot of reasons...you love the fit, hate the color.  Something's faded.  Want a change... Your towels are boring.  It's that or Paris and you have no passport.

There are lots of reasons to dye stuff, and dye is cheap and easily available.   There are lots of blogs and instructions out there on how to do so, but it quickly gets intimidating and scary and obnoxious and...yeah.

(Side note.  I loathe buying towels, and so I rarely do.  They often get bleach stained and gross around here, so I sloshed some of the scariest into a purple dye bath recently.  Now they're cheerful.  Yay!)

Additional caveats--polyester will not dye with Rit.  Cotton and cotton blends will, as will rayon, wool, and silk.   Natural fibers come out closer to the bottle color, but nothing will come out exactly like you expect. Ever.

How to dye with Rit Dye:






I am including pot instructions and washing machine instructions.

Pot:

Fill pot with water.  Empty in your RIT packet, or if liquid, the bottle.  Add 1 cup of salt and 1 cup of vinegar.  Add a dash of whatever detergent you have on hand--cheap shampoo (dollar-store-this-should-not-touch-my-hair-shampoo, dishwasher detergent, dish soap, whatever).  Stir until all is dissolved.

Wash your garment.  While still wet, dump into the pot.  Stir periodically.  When it's been there for about an hour, dump into the sink.  Rinse until the water runs clear, or you're bored.  Wash in the washer, run through the dryer.  You're done.

Top-loading Washing machine:

Wash your garment/fabric first.  Then with the lid open, let the washer fill again.  Dump in your dye--powder or liquid.  Add 1 cup of salt and 1 cup of vinegar.  Add a dash of whatever detergent you have on hand--cheap shampoo (dollar-store-this-should-not-touch-my-hair-shampoo, dishwasher detergent, dish soap, whatever).  Drop the lid and let it agitate for a minute or two until all is uniform in color.  Open the lid to let it soak in.

Pop back to the washer occasionally and shut the lid to let it agitate for a minute at a time to stir your fabric/garment around.   When you've hit about an hour of this, let the cycle run through.  Then heave everything into the dryer, and you're done.

If you want splotchier results, add your fabric or garments dry to the water.  If you want them more even, add them wet.   If you need anything to match, do it ALL AT ONCE.  You will never get the same results twice.   Do not expect anything to come out like the dye label.  And have fun!

The Remains of the Cornbread

So, you made my super-awesome cornbread, and despite your best efforts, you did not eat it all. Like most quick breads, cornbread is best fresh out of the oven. You can reheat it, but it loses some of the awesome. Fortunately, there are several good ways to use the leftovers.

• Make breadcrumbs. This assumes you haven't added anything like corn kernels or bacon. Crumble the cornbread onto a baking sheet and bake in a 350 oven until dry. Whiz through the food processor. This is a great way to use up odds and ends of bread or stray crackers, and you can just mix the crumbs together, regardless of their origin, assuming they are roughly the same age.

• If you are better at using your freezer than I am, cube it and freeze it to use for cornbread stuffing for Thanksgiving. I will never, ever remember to retrieve this after it disappears into the freezer. You may be smarter.

• If you have a lot of leftover cornbread, make bread pudding. I don't mean the savory kind with creamed corn (I am not linking to any variations of this because creamed corn gives me the heebie-jeebies), but a dessert pudding. The texture of this is very nice, light and fluffy. Someday I will try it with crumbled bacon as an add-in, and maple syrup for a sweetener.

• Four cups of cornbread chunks
• 4 eggs
• 2 cups of milk
• 1/4 cup sugar/honey/maple syrup - I went with sugar 
• 1 tsp vanilla
• optional add-ins: 1/2 cup chocolate chips (my choice,) raisins (yuck,) other diced dried fruit.  

•  Preheat oven to 375. Spray a loaf pan with Pam, put cornbread in the bottom. Scatter optional add-ins over the bread.
• Beat eggs, milk, sugar or other sweetener, and vanilla together; pour over bread
• Bake for 50 minutes until set and lightly browned.

• Make cornbread panzanella. This is not to be confused with a ubiquitous Southern recipe that takes leftover cornbread and a million other ingredients and slathers it with quarts of mayonnaise or ranch dressing in some kind of Slumgullion of the Dammned. This is a nice, simple, summery salad. My only note to this is I think it's tastier if you toast the cubes of cornbread a little before assembling the salad. Helps the texture. Oh, and feta cheese. 

• Okay, if you really want it: Slumgullion of the Damned. 

• And, again from Crescent Dragonwagon, Featherbed Eggs. I pared down her original, which called for an entire skillet of cornbread since my goal is to use up leftovers. 
• Half a skillet of leftover cornbread, crumbled and left to dry overnight. If you can remember it's in there, crumble the cornbread in the skillet you baked it in and leave it in your oven. 
• 4 eggs
• 1 cup milk
• 1/2 cup grated cheese (Cheddar or pepperjack work well here) 
• Salt/pepper to taste
• optional dashes of hot sauce or Pickapeppa sauce. 

• Preheat oven to 350, FIRST TAKING OUT THE CORNBREAD YOU MAY HAVE LEFT IN THERE 
• Spray an 8x8 baking pan with Pam.
• Layer cornbread chunks, then cheese. 
• Beat together eggs, milk, and seasonings. Pour over the cornbread. 
• Bake for approximately 30 minutes. Mixture will be set and and lightly browned.

My Cornbread Manifesto

I've had this simmering (baking?) in the back of my mind for quite a while, but haven't had the opportunity to get in front of a computer. By the way, here's a spare thrifty tip: don't knock a full glass of wine into your laptop. Your laptop has a stunted palate and will be satisfied with PBR.

Breads, along with pastas, rice, noodles, etc., have a long history as a way to supplement more expensive ingredients. As a good Southern girl, cornbread is one of my ancestral foods, and it is often misunderstood outside the region. Pull up a chair, now, and be enlightened.

One of the first misunderstandings is what makes Southern cornbread. Cooks Illustrated, usually my ultimate cooking authority, states that 'Southerners use 100 percent white cornmeal, and they like their cornmeal crumbly, dry, and flat--about an inch thick.'

Christopher Kimball, you ignorant slut.

That is a regional variation within the South, but not representative of the entire South. My mom, who is my ultimate authority in Southern cooking, says that is preferred when you can't afford flour or sugar.

Another misunderstanding is that cornbread is never sweetened. Possibly this confusion arises from the fact one should never sweeten grits, lest you offend Chicomecōātl, the Aztec goddess of corn, and cause her to materialize, extract your heart, and ruin breakfast.

Never sweeten grits; do sweeten cornbread -- a little. Cornbread is not cake. It should be sweetened just enough to enhance the corn taste.As far as the white/yellow cornmeal -- I have never cared what color my cornmeal is. I typically use white because that is what comes in the bag of White Lily self-rising cornmeal mix. My other two cornbread rules are more rigid: use buttermilk, and use a cast iron skillet.

I understand that buttermilk is not as widely available in supermarkets in some regions. Try to seek it out, though, because souring milk with lemon juice is not a terrific substitute (but will do if your back is against the cabin wall.) Once you get your hands on some real buttermilk, you can even start making your own, as noted in Foodie with Family. Buttermilk is not a one-trick pony, either. You can use it for cornbread, biscuits, pancakes, homemade ranch dressing, or as a fab marinade for chicken. Soak chicken pieces in buttermilk for 1-24 hours, and then bread or season it and cook as you wish. You could even go full-on-Southern and try my grandfather's favorite lunch in summer: fill a glass halfway with crumbled leftover cornbread. Pour in buttermilk. Eat with a spoon.

I suppose you have to have the leftover cornbread first, and I should get around to the recipe -- but one final word on equipment. Use a cast iron-skillet. I can and will write loving odes to the wonders of cast-iron, but in the meantime, just use one. It is essential to form a nice crust on the cornbread.

Okay, recipe! Mine is loosely adapted from Crescent Dragonwagon's Skillet-Sizzled Buttermilk Cornbread, from her Soup and Bread cookbook.

As mentioned, I use White Lily self-rising cornmeal mix, but it's another regionally available thing, so I've included a sub.

Preheat oven to 375.

Two cups self-rising cornmeal mix
or
1 cup cornmeal
1 cup flour
1 tbsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking soda

1 to 1 1/4 cups buttermilk.
1 egg
1/4 cup corn or canola oil (basically anything but olive)
1-2 tablespoons of sugar, or preferably honey.

butter or bacon grease

Mix your wets together, then mix  lightly into the drys. This is a quick bread, so don't over-mix -- lumps are fine. Let the batter rest for a second while you tend to the skillet.

Put 2-4 tablespoons of butter or bacon grease (or get evil and use a little of both) into the skillet and put the skillet in the oven for a few minutes. You want the skillet to get nice and hot and the butter/grease to melt. CAUTIONARY NOTE: if you are busy getting dinner together, possibly with kids or pets running around and chipping away at your sanity, USE A POTHOLDER. Not that I have ever reached into a hot oven and grabbed a hot skillet handle with my bare hand, because I am smrt. 

Carefully remove your HOT skillet with the HOT melted oil in it, and carefully tilt to coat the bottom of the skillet. Then pour your batter in (SZZZZZZZ!!!) and pop it back in the oven. Bake about 25 minutes, until golden brown. Then write me (or Crescent Dragonwagon) a thank-you note.

Allowable additions to cornbread: corn kernels, drained diced green chiles, non-fancy grated cheese (pepper-jack is as gourmet as you want to go,) or crumbled bacon (which you can cook in your cast iron skillet, and thus provide you with bacon grease.)

Tomorrow I'll follow up with how to use your cornbread leftovers, should you have them.

Inspirations

Kate here.  I've been head down in festivals and refashions, and wanted to pass along some lovely inspiration sites (you don't have to sew, or can sew on a minimal level, and still find these useful)

New Dress a Day --Marisa does a lot of interesting stuff with clothing.

Refashionista -- Jillian's refashions tend to be a bit more basic, but I do like her bravery.

Craftster --massive number of forums.  Happy poking-about.

Lentils

Kate asked me to post about lentils. Coincidentally, I recently shared my favorite lentil soup recipe with a friend, and she wondered, "Why are lentils always a punchline to jokes about vegetarian food?"

I think lentils have a bad reputation for several reasons. One is the association with vegetarians -- lentils share this burden with tofu and eggplant. Second, lentils are associated with goldanged furriners; closely related is an association with poverty. Just like you can't read an early twentieth century novel's description of a tenement without the obligatory smell of stale cabbage, you can't read anything about cutting your grocery bill without a mention of beans/lentils and rice. And thirdly (I think -- I've lost track,) most lentils do not plate prettily. I have read that puy lentils and beluga lentils keep their shape through cooking, but since I live about two hours from any place that supplies such a thing, I don't know. I rely on commonplace brown lentils and the enormous bags of red lentils my beloved Cabana Boy brings me from The Big City; and both those varieties cook up -- well -- they have lovely personalities. Also, they are fucking delicious.

Besides the deliciousness and the cheap-as-fuck-ness, lentils have two other lovely qualities. One is that they cook up in thirty minutes or less, no soaking or bullshit (although you might want to eyeball the little fuckers for rocks or whatever -- I have found a few pebbles mixed in.) The other is that lentils lack the chemical flirbberigibiticide that makes you fart. What else do you want, a fucking letter of introduction?

One of my fave soups utilizes brown lentils. This has a certain Mediterranean flair, except for the sweet potatoes. If the sweet potatoes offend your sense of culinary authenticity, I suggest you leave them out  fuck right off to another blog.

Somewhat Mediterranean Lentil Soup

The next recipe is totally different, has an Asian flavor profile, and is vegan -- wait, come back. If "vegan" makes you nervous, use chicken broth instead. However, I have served this soup to many a dedicated carnivore and the only person who didn't like it was my father, whose food issues are many and varied (Side note: until I was 14 or so, I had no idea that other families did not always serve pork and beans with their pizza, because we always did, because my dad is weird.)

Red Lentil Coconut World Domination Soup

Last of all, this is not a recipe, but an idea. My kid has a lot of sensory issues, and food texture is a big one. Beans are among the worst things for him because of the kind of pasty texture. However, I tried the following recipe from one of my absolute favorite food blogs, and it worked. And this is a great idea for a couple of reasons -- not only does it stretch out the meat, which is typically the most expensive ingredient, but it supplies some extra fiber, which can be very nice for anyone whose menu is limited. Plus, he totally fell for it, and got seconds. Sing song voice: kid tested, mama approved. 

Red Lentil Coconut Soup

I would give proper credit for this soup if I could, because it is so awesome. I got it from a long-ago Internet friend who vanished; she might have gotten it from Weight Watchers, but I really don't know. Here is my take.

2 Tbs vegetable oil
2 medium onions, chopped (2 cups)
garlic to your threshold. I always at least double the garlic, so I am not a reliable guide.
1 inch piece fresh ginger, minced (or a squeeze from the fabulous tube of minced garlic I scored at the local Wally World. I know it sounds awful, but I hate grating ginger, and any ginger root of size will go furry in my fridge.)
1 Tbs curry powder, preferably hot
1 cup red lentils
3 medium carrots, peeled and roughly chopped (1 cup)
14-oz. can light coconut milk (or regular)

1/4 cup minced cilantro
 
Heat 2Tbs oil over medium heat. Add onions, and cook, stirring often, until onions start to brown, about 10 minutes. Add ginger, garlic, and curry powder and stir for 30 seconds.  Add 4 cups water, lentils, carrots, and coconut milk. Cover, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer. partially covered, until lentils are tender, about 20 minutes.

In food processor or blender, puree soup in batches until smooth. Taste, and add more salt if desired. Serve hot.

Somewhat Mediterranean Lentil Soup

Somewhat Mediterranean Lentil Soup

1 cup brown lentils (check them over for tiny rocks)
1/4 cup olive oil
1 diced onion
minced garlic, to your garlic threshold. I think this soup should knock out vampires at twenty paces.
1 peeled, diced sweet potato
1 package frozen spinach (thawed, with excess moisture squeezed out)  or equivalent fresh (you're on your own, and why are you using fresh spinach in a soup? I am not angry, but I am very disappointed.)
1 lemon
salt and pepper to taste
about a quart of water; you may add more
(optional vegetarian bouillon cube)  

Start with the olive oil and saute the onion. Get it nice and translucent, and at the very end, add the garlic. Give it a good stir and add the water, the lentils, the optional cube, and the sweet potato. Bring it to a boil, then down to a bubbly simmer. At twenty-five minutes, check both the water and the sweet potato. The mixture should be soupy, and the sweet potatoes should be tender. You may have to add more water and increase the time for this. When sweet potatoes are done, or close to done, add the thawed spinach, and allow everything to come up to temperature. Finish with a nice strong squeeze of lemon juice.

You could garnish this with a dollop of plain Greek yogurt, or a sprinkle of feta cheese.

Why bother with thrift? There's more reasons than saving money.

One of the things I fucking hate about talking about this shit is when someone who is making a decent salary and so on looks at me like I have three eyes and says "well, I can buy it."

Yes, yes you can.  BUT.   I've found over time there's a bunch of reasons to make your own cleaners and laundry detergent and etc, given that cheaper is cheaper.

Convenience:   With about ten basic ingredients, I can make any cleaner I might need in my house at any time.  There is no "I can't do laundry until I get to the supermarket and get laundry detergent"-- I can make a 5 gallon bucket,  and even then it takes me less than half an hour to make the stuff.  I live in the boonies.  NOT driving 20 minutes to a store is a big savings in my time.

Hypoallergenic:   My husband is allergic to the planet.  Often the cheaper alternative is also the one less likely to make him bitch itch.

Works better:  Yup.  It does.

Theoretically, money for other things:   I'll let you know when I get there.  But in the meantime we can at least eat.

Creativity:  Since taking on a thrifty lifestyle, I never look at what something is.  I look at what it could be.  If the coffee table doesn't work as a coffee table, it could be a bench.  Or a lift to get something off a wet basement floor.  A dress is not a dress, it's a potential skirt and top.   It really has changed my thinking.

--Kate

Counter Surfing the Dirty Water Tide

Kate's Spray Cleaner

You know, the stuff you use like Formula 409 because EVERY OTHER PERSON IN YOUR HOUSE IS A SLOB AND I AM LOOKING AT YOU, DOG not to mention the other twofooter in the house sloshes coffee everywhere but I'm having a be nice to my husband week

Spray bottle
half vinegar
half water
capful of CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP shampoo--the kind you look at in the dollar store and wonder if it's going to eat through the bottle right there
some lemon or orange essential oil, if you must.

Shake up in spray bottle, and clean up the coffee on the counter.

Kate's Faux Shahi Paneer

Because, yeah.  I love Indian food, and eating out every night so is not in the budget.  Not when there is kibble to be bought for the furkids who are, after all, much more important.


(I usually make tomato sauce in bulk, but I'm assuming not everyone does that.  Use about 3 cups of your bulk tomato sauce or use this.)

1 package fry-able cheese (I usually use Queso Blanco or Queso Fresco)
2 cans diced tomatoes
1 can pureed tomatoes
 dried onions or fresh diced onions
1/2--1 cup milk

Spices:
tumeric
garlic
cumin
garam masala
whatever else smells good

Optional:
your favorite veggies (broccoli, cauliflower, snap peas.... )
cashews
raisins

Slice the cheese into chunks and lightly brown in a fry pan with the onion.  When it's nicely browned, dump over the tomatoes and dump in the spices and the milk.  I use half garam masala-- half everything else. Turn heat to low.   Let it simmer while the rice cooks.

Serve over brown or white basmati rice

HE-friendly homemade laundry detergent

The bad news: you don't get to make Flubber.

The good news: this actually takes a step out of my very easy regular laundry detergent, and it takes less storage space.

Equipment -- a largish container -- some plastic something or other. From painful experience, I would not use a recycled plastic coffee container unless you are a) totally sure the coffee smell is gone, or b) don't mind smelling like a soap latte.

A grater, like you would use for cheese. 


Ingredients: 1 bar of soap (nothing deodorant or moisturizing; I like Dr. Bronner's or Ivory)
1 cup of Borax
1 cup of washing soda (also labeled as super washing soda or laundry soda)

Borax and washing soda are usually found in Wal Marts or large grocery stores, but may be on bottom shelves or squirreled away. You'll only use a fraction of each box for this recipe.

Grate your soap. Add the other stuff. Stir. Use one tablespoonful per large load. Spend your savings on hookers and blow.

The Vicious Spin Cycle

Laundry is actually how we (Kate and I) started this blog. I went looking for recipes for homemade laundry detergent for HE washers. I looked. I looked.

Then I poured a glass of wine and messaged Kate thusly: I am sick of wading through all these super-fundy sites to get my fucking laundry detergent recipe.

I don't have anything against Christians -- I just don't feel like plowing through sites that are SUPER SUPER BLESSED and HEY LOOK AT OUR QUIVERFUL OF CHILDREN. And somehow, a lot of thrifty sites are also very overtly Christian.

However, heathens love a bargain too! So after Kate and I bitched over chat for a bit, we conceived Misfit Thrift -- thrifty deals for anyone, with scarcely a deity invoked.

So, laundry. Where was I? Back in my old house, I had a crappy little non-HE washer, and I learned to make detergent for it. Before you click away, convinced I am a crazy person who is thrifty like "spin your dryer lint into yarn," or start my recipes with, "First, grind your wheat" -- I am a very lazy thrifty person. I don't coupon because that looks like another job.

But laundry detergent is so fucking easy, and crazy cheap. I'll start with the non-HE recipe. HE-friendly is over here. Assuming you have a big pot and a grater, your major equipment investment will be a 5 gallon bucket with a lid. I think mine was about $5 at Lowes. (Aside: You know that thing bloggers do, where they verify exact prices, and break down the cost of ingredients/usage? I am not only lazy, but I suck at math.)

Assemble ingredients:
a regular-sized bar of soap like Dr. Bronner's or Ivory -- you don't want anything deodorant or moisturizing
1 cup Borax
1 cup washing soda (not baking soda -- this is labeled as washing/super washing/laundry soda)
6 cups water (you'll add more water later, but we'll get to that)
totally optional drops of an essential oil that you know doesn't irritate your housemates or pets

Note: Borax and washing soda are found in many grocery stores and WalMart; often they are found on bottom shelves or kind of tucked away. One box of each will make several batches of detergent.

Grate your soap. Once done, you've finished the most labor intensive part.

Heat your 6 cups of water, and add the soap. Stir until it melts. Note: don't boil the water, especially after you add the soap, unless you feel like doing a live re-enactment of an I Love Lucy Episode.

Add the Borax and washing soda. Stir to dissolve. Add your optional essential oil. Add seven more quarts of very hot tap water (or water you've heated on the stove separately -- but why would you do that?) Stir everything well, then pour into your bucket. The mixture will gell as it cools, and that's fun because it's like you're making Flubber.

Use 1/2 a cup per large load of laundry. 

Now, you know how I don't do math? Even a non-person like myself can see that I spent less than ten dollars for 5 gallons of detergent, which I will use one 1/2 cup at a time, plus I have plenty left of the Borax and washing soda. Divide the quotient with curly math, find the cube root of rutabaga, and that's a bargain. Plus your detergent can simply smell like clean stuff, or lavender, or whatever you like -- not gross laboratory "lavender fields."

So this is what I am about -- minimal effort (grate soap, melt some shit) and maximum result. Also, I curse a lot. Maybe Kate can wash out my mouth with her homemade soap.