I keep a spreadsheet of every grocery receipt. I have done this since 2003. I will not stop. The week was a summer week, the kind where the light through the kitchen window arrives at a particular angle and the freezer hums in a different register depending on the temperature in the garage. I made notes in my prep notebook on Sunday afternoon, the way I always do: meal name, ingredient list, cost per serving, prep time, freezer instructions. Twenty-eight bags. Two hours and eleven minutes. A little slow this week, by my standards, but Brandon was helping and the conversation was good, and I have learned, slowly and against my own grain, that the conversation is sometimes the point and the time is sometimes a courtesy I extend to my husband for being willing to chop onions on a Sunday afternoon.
Brandon golfed Saturday morning, attended his executive secretary meeting Sunday morning, and did the dishes Wednesday night, which is the rhythm of our life now. We have been married a long time. The arithmetic of it is the arithmetic of my whole life. There were years we missed each other in the same room, and there are years we find each other in the silences, and this is one of the latter, and I am old enough now to know that the latter is the achievement and the former was the cost.
The recipe of the week was funeral potatoes (no, dessert this time, sheet cake), which I have made some specific number of times in my life and have refined to a system that I now hand to other people in printed form. The version I made this week fed eight, cost under fifteen dollars, and required twenty-six minutes of active prep, which is within my requirements and not a coincidence. Sunday prep is twenty-eight bags. I time myself. The accountant never leaves. I have stopped explaining the freezer-meal philosophy to people who already follow my work, and I have stopped apologizing for it to people who do not. The philosophy is simple: tomorrow is coming whether you are ready or not. You can either be ready or not. I pick ready.
The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan, 20, is in the Philippines on his mission. He sends emails on Mondays. I read them on Mondays. The day is now structured around his email. Olivia is 18, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 15, is in Brazil on his mission. His weekly emails are short and full of jokes. He does not write much about the work. He writes about the food. Lily is 13, in high school, asking the kind of questions in Sunday School that make the teachers uncomfortable, which I find difficult and also, secretly, admirable. Noah is 11, the comedian, the performer — the kid who does an impression of my disappointed face in front of company, and gets away with it. That is the family report. I do not have a system for these reports. I just listen and remember and call back when I said I would call back, which is most of the time and not all of the time, and the difference between most and all is the territory of motherhood.
I will close the laptop in a moment. I will go to bed. I will get up tomorrow. The freezer will be there. The photograph will be there. The work will be there. So will I.
The sheet cake I mentioned was already done and in the freezer before Brandon finished the onions, but after twenty-eight bags and two hours of Sunday prep, I wanted something we could actually eat that afternoon — something that required no oven, no waiting, and no apology for being simple. These Caramel Apple Rice Krispies Treats are exactly that: fast, sweet, made from things I already had on hand, and the kind of thing you can set on the counter and watch disappear while the conversation is still going.
Caramel Apple Rice Krispies Treats
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 16
Ingredients
- 6 cups Rice Krispies cereal
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1 package (10 oz) marshmallows
- 1/2 cup caramel bits or soft caramel candies, unwrapped
- 1 cup dried apple chips, roughly crushed
- 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/3 cup caramel sauce or ice cream caramel topping, for drizzling
- Cooking spray
Instructions
- Prepare the pan. Coat a 9x13-inch baking pan with cooking spray. Set aside.
- Melt the base. In a large saucepan over medium-low heat, melt the butter completely. Add the marshmallows and stir constantly until fully melted and smooth, about 4–5 minutes. Remove from heat.
- Season the mixture. Stir in the cinnamon and salt until evenly incorporated into the melted marshmallow mixture.
- Combine. Working quickly, fold in the Rice Krispies cereal until fully coated. Gently fold in the caramel bits and crushed dried apple chips, distributing them as evenly as possible throughout the mixture.
- Press into pan. Transfer the mixture to the prepared pan. Using a buttered spatula or lightly greased hands, press the mixture firmly and evenly into the pan. Do not pack too hard — a light, even press keeps the bars from becoming dense.
- Drizzle and set. Drizzle the caramel sauce over the top in a back-and-forth motion. Allow the bars to cool at room temperature for at least 15 minutes before cutting.
- Cut and serve. Once set, cut into 16 bars. Store leftovers in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days, with parchment between layers to prevent sticking.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 37g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 115mg