By Christmas 2028. Fifth in the house. The cookbook money — not the food bank edition, the commercial "Pantry Rules" — has been paying for Christmas this year. Eight months of royalties: not a fortune, but enough for presents, a tree, a ham ($20.49 — I've crossed the $20 ham threshold and I need a moment), and the satisfaction of knowing that the book is working. Working as a book, working as income, working as the thing it was always supposed to be: a way to feed people and sustain myself at the same time.
"Five Dollars, Five People" crossed 3,000 copies. The milestone is quiet — no blog post, no celebration, just a number on a dashboard. But 3,000 copies, at $12.99 each, means: $39,000 in sales. My royalty is 60% on the self-published edition: $23,400 over three years. Not life-changing money. Christmas money. Grocery money. The money that means the difference between $30 weeks and $40 weeks, between beans and chicken, between tight and okay. The cookbook was never going to make me rich. The cookbook was always going to make me okay. And okay is enough. Okay was always the goal.
The kids opened presents in the living room — the same living room where Brayden first ran in circles screaming "MY ROOM," the same house that was the dream for five years of saving. Brayden got a basketball hoop (mounted on the garage — Dustin installed it, because if it involves tools, Dustin does it). Harper got books (always books — twelve this time, a mix of new and used, fiction and nonfiction, because Harper reads everything and categorizes it by genre on her shelf like a tiny librarian). Wyatt got art supplies (watercolors, brushes, a sketchbook, because the boy paints and the painting is how he speaks).
The "Turners: Est. 2020" sign is on the kitchen wall. The cast iron is on the stove. The recipe cards are in the drawer. The counter has room. The lights are on. They have been on for three years, in this house, without interruption. The streak continues. The streak is everything.
A $20.49 ham deserves a finish that matches the moment — and this Christmas, with the lights on and the kids in the living room and three years of “okay” finally feeling like more than okay, caramelized pineapple was the only answer. It’s the kind of topping that costs almost nothing, takes almost no time, and turns something humble into something that feels like it belongs on a holiday table. That’s what this whole year has been about: making what you have into something that feels like enough, because it is.
Caramelized Pineapple Topping
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 can (20 oz) pineapple rings or chunks, drained, juice reserved
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
- Pinch of kosher salt
- 2 tablespoons reserved pineapple juice
Instructions
- Drain and prep. Drain the pineapple thoroughly, reserving at least 2 tablespoons of the juice. Pat the pineapple pieces dry with paper towels — this helps them caramelize instead of steam.
- Melt the butter. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter until it begins to foam. Add the brown sugar, cinnamon, cloves, and salt, stirring until the sugar dissolves into the butter, about 1–2 minutes.
- Add the pineapple. Arrange the pineapple in a single layer in the skillet. Cook undisturbed for 3–4 minutes until the bottom is deep golden brown, then flip and cook another 3–4 minutes on the other side.
- Deglaze and finish. Pour in the reserved pineapple juice and stir gently, scraping up any caramelized bits from the bottom of the pan. Simmer for 1–2 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly and coats the pineapple.
- Serve. Spoon warm over a baked or glazed ham just before serving. The topping can also be made 30 minutes ahead and gently rewarmed over low heat.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 110 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 30mg