Saltine Toffee — The Sweet I Bring When Food Does the Talking

Halloween. The neighborhood kids came through in waves. I gave out candy until the bowl was empty by eight-thirty.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.

I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

With Thanksgiving coming and the cookbook on my mind, I have been thinking a lot about the food that travels — the things you wrap up and carry to somebody else’s table, the things that come back in an empty pan. I dropped cornbread at the hospital and mac and cheese on the block this week, and every single time, the food said what I couldn’t quite put into words. This Saltine Toffee is that kind of recipe: simple enough to make on a Tuesday night, special enough to bring somewhere that matters. I have started keeping a batch in the refrigerator from Halloween all the way through New Year’s, because somebody is always coming through the door.

Saltine Toffee

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min + 2 hrs chill | Servings: 24 pieces

Ingredients

• 40 saltine crackers (1 sleeve), approximately
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
• 1 cup packed light brown sugar
• 2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
• 1/2 cup chopped pecans
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Instructions

1. Prepare the pan. Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and spray generously with nonstick cooking spray. Arrange saltine crackers in a single, snug layer across the bottom of the pan, breaking crackers as needed to fill any gaps.
2. Make the toffee. In a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine butter and brown sugar over medium heat. Stir constantly until butter is melted and sugar is dissolved. Bring to a rolling boil and cook, without stirring, for exactly 3 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla extract.
3. Coat the crackers. Pour the hot toffee evenly over the crackers and use a heatproof spatula to spread it all the way to the edges. Work quickly — the toffee sets fast.
4. Bake. Transfer the pan to the oven and bake for 5 to 7 minutes, until the toffee is bubbling and deeply golden all over. Watch it closely; it can go from perfect to burned in under a minute.
5. Add the chocolate. Remove from oven and immediately scatter chocolate chips across the surface in an even layer. Let them sit undisturbed for 2 to 3 minutes to melt, then use a spatula to spread the chocolate smooth from edge to edge.
6. Finish and chill. Scatter chopped pecans over the chocolate and finish with a light pinch of flaky sea salt. Transfer the pan to the refrigerator and chill for at least 2 hours, or until completely firm.
7. Break and serve. Lift the foil from the pan and peel it away from the toffee. Break into irregular pieces by hand. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to two weeks — if it lasts that long.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 195 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 95mg