Caramel Peanut Butter Jelly Bars —rsquo; Layered Like Love, Made From Scratch

August in Alabama. The peaches at the farmer's market. I bought a half-bushel. Tuesday feeding ran clean. Sister Beulah was there at three. The chicken was dredged by four. We served from six until eight. Sister Beulah shooed me out at nine-thirty.

Calvin preached Sunday on the loaves and fishes. The church said amen. I talked to Marcus this morning at the kitchen window with my coffee. I told him the kitchen was holding. He did not answer in words. He does not need to.

Banana pudding Saturday. Nilla wafers layered like sedimentary rock. The custard from scratch — yes, baby, from scratch, none of that boxed nonsense.

CJ called from Huntsville. The grandchildren — Caleb (1), Naomi — are well. Shanice sends her love. Destiny came for Sunday dinner. She talked about her work. The work is hard. She is good at hard work.

The kitchen held, sugar. The chain extends. Amen.

The garden in the side yard, sugar. The tomatoes are coming on. The okra is up. The collards are getting big. I will be canning by August. I always say I am not going to can. I always end up canning.

Sunday after service Calvin and I drove past the new sanctuary site. The choir loft windows were going in. We sat in the car and looked. He did not speak. I did not speak. The watching was the prayer.

I made coffee at five Tuesday morning. Strong, with cream, no sugar (the diabetes). I stood at the kitchen window. The yard was still in dark. The day ahead was the day ahead. I went into it.

I had a small cry Wednesday morning at the kitchen window. No reason in particular. The grief comes when it comes. I made coffee. I went on. That is how this works.

I have been thinking about heaven a lot lately. I do not know what I think. I know what Calvin preaches. I know what the AME doctrine says. I know what my Mama believed. I am at the age, sugar, where heaven is more than a Sunday school answer. I am working on it.

I stood at the kitchen window with my coffee Tuesday morning. Six o'clock. The light just coming. The yard quiet. Talking to Mama about the day ahead. The talking is its own prayer, sugar.

Calvin and I watched the news Wednesday evening. He fell asleep in the recliner. I covered him with the afghan that Bernice crocheted before she died. The afghan is holding.

I sat on the porch Saturday afternoon. The neighborhood was quiet. Mr. Henderson across the street waved. I waved back. The porches are the original social network, sugar. We have been at this since Eden.

Sister Beulah came by Tuesday afternoon to drop off the bulletins. She stayed for coffee. We talked about the church, about her grandbaby, about the heat. The visit was the visit.

Mr. Henderson across the street brought me a bag of pecans Friday from his tree. I made a pecan pie with them. I took half of it back to him. He said, Loretta, this is wrong, you took my pecans and gave me back a pie. I said, that is exactly right. That is how it works.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. I left a small piece of pound cake on Bernice's stone. I sat on the grass for fifteen minutes. The wind moved the trees.

My knees were bad this week. I sat between rounds at the stove. The volunteers tried to take the spoon. I would not let them. The spoon is not negotiable, sugar.

I said banana pudding Saturday, and I meant it — but the truth is, any week that holds what this one held deserves something layered and sweet at the end of it. These Caramel Peanut Butter Jelly Bars carry that same spirit: you build them in layers, the way you build a life, the way Nilla wafers sit in custard until everything melds together into something that was always meant to be. From scratch, sugar. That is the only way I know how to do it.

Caramel Peanut Butter Jelly Bars

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes (plus cooling) | Servings: 16 bars

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
• 1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 tsp fine salt
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
• 1/2 cup creamy peanut butter, divided
• 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
• 1/3 cup strawberry or grape jelly
• 1/4 cup thick caramel sauce (store-bought or homemade), plus more for drizzling
• 1/4 cup dry-roasted peanuts, roughly chopped

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Line an 8x8-inch baking pan with parchment paper, leaving overhang on two sides for easy lifting. Lightly grease the parchment.
2. Make the base dough. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt. Add the melted butter, 1/4 cup of the peanut butter, and vanilla extract. Stir until the mixture comes together into a crumbly, sandy dough.
3. Press and par-bake. Reserve about 3/4 cup of the dough for the topping. Press the remaining dough firmly and evenly into the bottom of the prepared pan. Bake for 10 minutes, until just set but not yet golden.
4. Layer the filling. Remove the pan from the oven. Dollop the remaining 1/4 cup peanut butter over the warm base and gently spread it to the edges. Spoon the jelly evenly over the peanut butter layer, then drizzle the caramel sauce across the top.
5. Add the topping. Crumble the reserved dough over the filling in an even layer. Scatter the chopped peanuts across the top.
6. Bake until golden. Return the pan to the oven and bake for an additional 18—22 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the edges are set. The center may look slightly soft — that is right.
7. Cool completely. Set the pan on a wire rack and allow the bars to cool completely in the pan, at least 1 hour. Do not rush this step — the layers need time to set. Once cool, lift out using the parchment overhang and drizzle with additional caramel before slicing into 16 bars.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 218 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 128mg