BUDGET BYTES by Beth Moncel - Book Review

5/5 - So delicious that I read until my eyes went blurry!

Title: Budget Bytes

Author: Beth Moncel

Format: paperback

Published: 2014

Genre: cookbook

Publisher: Avery (Penguin Group)

Landed in my hands: purchased myself

Summary (from publication cover blurb):

A few years ago, Beth Moncel found herself, like many twenty-somethings, barely making ends meet. Living in a tiny, run-down apartment, being eaten alive by student loans, and sick of having to choose between buying toilet paper and fill her car's gas tank, Beth decided to cut down on the only expenditure she could: food. The trick was figuring out how to do so without resorting to peanut butter sandwiches at every meal. Armed with a degree in nutritional science and determined to eat healthily and well while cutting costs, Beth tackled the dilemma head-on.

By tracking her costs with obsessive precision, Beth learned which ingredients helped stretch her funds and which burned through them fastest. Eager to share her tips and recipes, she launched her blog, Budget Bytes. The blog soon attracted millions of readers clamoring for more.

Beth's eagerly awaited cookbook proves that cutting back on cost does not mean sacrificing taste. Budget Bytes delivers:

- More than 100 easy-to-follow, healthy, and affordable recipes for dependably delicious meals, like Coconut Chicken Curry; Mango, Jalapeño, & Quinoa Salad; Chorizo-Sweet Potato Enchiladas, and Teriyaki Salmon with Sriracha Mayo.

- Expert principles for cutting costs in the kitchen—including how to combine inexpensive ingredients with expensive ones to ensure that you can still have that pricey steak you're craving.

- Information to help you get acquainted with your kitchen, stock your larder, and get maximum use out of your freezer.

Many people assume that eating on a budget means compromising your standards; Beth proves that isn't the case. Whether you're urban or rural, vegan or paleo, Budget Bytes is guaranteed to delight both your palate and your pocketbook.


Review:

I can't remember precisely how I stumbled upon Beth Moncel's recipe blog Budget Bytes but it's a good bet Pinterest had something to do with it. Her recipe for Spinach Lasagna Roll Ups was one of the first recipes I tried online that became an instant family favourite, which prompted me to peruse her website and try other highly popular recipes. (I've boldly served her Italian Wonderpot—paired with baked skinless chicken breasts—to guests on a trial run of the recipe, to receive rave reviews).

Imagine my surprise when one day I (finally) noticed she's got a recipe book advertised in her sidebar. I poked around online reading up on it (are the recipes the same as her blog? does the book have more tips?), and the minute a little bird told me that she's got her best recipes saved for the book, I took the plunge and ordered a copy.

It's now dog-eared and full of stickies.

Over the summer I've served our family several of her recipes, and I have yet to find one that isn't a hit. We have specifically tried her Easy Meat Sauce (for pasta); Farmer Joes (a healthier Sloppy Joes knock off); Lemon-Garlic Shrimp Pasta; Savory Coconut Rice; Monkey Bread; Roasted Broccoli with Crispy Garlic; One-Skillet Lasagna; Firecracker Cauliflower; Five-Spice Chops; Chili-Cheese Beef 'n' Mac (think Hamburger Helper from scratch); Triple-Herb Mashed Potatoes; Peach Bubble Cake; and Indian Skillet Potatoes.

Granted, that's only thirteen recipes, but I'm not losing steam—I've another 14 marked to try once the weather turns, or during Mr Lannis' holidays (read: accepted time for truly experimental menus). Fact is, I can already tell from reading Moncel's write ups that these recipes are going to be hits.

Now while I've burnt my share of toast over the years, I'm not a beginner in the kitchen, but neither am I an expert. But I can tell you what I think Moncel is doing right, and why you should buy this book—or at the very least check out recipes on her blog:

- Budget Bytes is not intimidating. It's written for beginners, and the recipes are simple and classic. There's no need to go to cooking school to understand the concepts therein.

- Moncel breaks it all down: the costs; the benefits of meal planning; how to stock your kitchen and pantry; how to properly freeze food to cut back on waste; sample menus; conversion tables; and an appendix listing over 70 vegetarian and vegan recipes and where to find them in her book.

- There are Chef's Tips to help you become a more skilled participant in the kitchen, as well as Budget Bytes, which highlight cost-saving ideas.

- Each recipe has a code that correlates to how expensive the cumulative ingredients are, and how well the recipe freezes for leftovers—handy info if you're unsure of the number of mouths you're feeding on a given day, or like to prep freezer meals in advance.

- Its recipes are forgiving: we used leftover sausage instead of fresh for the meat sauce and guess what: nobody died. In fact, it was delicious. And I fully plan on defying instructions and using the slow-cooker instead of the stove top to make that Better-Than-Mom's Chili, because: hello, lazy! I'm fairly certain we'll survive that, too.

- Moncel's personality shines. She's written a short introduction to each recipe, and she's down to Earth and endearing.

- Great photographs. Never underestimate the power of food porn. Seriously.


The reason I am writing this review after only having tried thirteen recipes (fifteen if you count the two from her website) is that I have struggled to put this cookbook back in the cupboard since it was purchased. I keep flipping through, drooling, marking up, and adding stickies, and I know this book has been an investment I won't regret. I've already learned a thing or three.

What's the rule? If you get two good recipes out of a cookbook it's a keeper? So far Budget Bytes had proven that at least four times over and stands to do so another five times if it keeps to the current record. If you're still unconvinced, check out her blog, but remember: the book is even better!

Review: Roots Lunch Bag

It occurred to me that I’ve been sitting on this gem (figuratively, natch), and sharing could help others.

This is my son’s soft-sided lunch bag. Both of my boys are rough on their belongings. This particular lunch bag has served stoically through the 2013-2014 school year, and is currently serving the 2014-2015 school year.

And it’ll likely serve the 2015-2016 year, too.

No joshing. These Roots bags are the most durable lunch bags I’ve ever seen. I have no plans to shell out for a new lunch bag anytime soon.

If I recall, it was less than $15 CAD new at Costco. Recently I saw some with different colours still stocked in a corner of Costco near the snowshoes and bread (you can’t make this up).

They come with a stainless steel water bottle (that apparently people keep gifting unused to second hand stores, if you’ve got a kid like mine who constantly loses water bottles...), with a wide enough mouth to toss in an ice cube or four during the summer months. 

They also come with a clip on strap that we’ve never bothered to use, I’ve just lost them, put them aside for future use.

Now these lunch bags aren’t in perfect condition after 18 months, but they might as well be. They have a couple stains (is that pink crayon? Jello?). But the only items that have fallen apart are negligible ones, in my opinion: the mesh on the bottom of one bottle holder has let go, and my youngest son’s bag has lost the bungee cord to secure his bottle (but it still works fine). The stainless steel bottle that hasn’t been lost is dented up the wazoo, but is functional.

Overall importance in usability and durability:

- These lunch bags don’t smell. They have a plastic zip-out liner to ensure leaks are contained, but I preemptively put the boys’ refillable drink boxes in an empty bread bag because I’m OCD like that. And whenever the boys have a break from school I wash the entire bags themselves and hang to dry, so they get a good wash 4-6 times a year, and that's on top of the daily wipe out.

- The silver insulating lining has not cracked or gotten caught in zippers.

- The fabric has not frayed. The handle is padded and comfortable.

- The zippers are tough: they zip smoothly and haven’t begun catching on anything.

- It’s roomy. Since it's soft-sided there's some wiggle room on the dimensions listed below. Daily I pack the lunch bag’s main compartment with multiple items/containers, specifically: a sandwich container, two small containers (a serving each of apple sauce and Jello), a medium container with a muffin, and/or an apple, a refillable drink box, an ice pack (held in place by mesh), and two spoons (because using the same spoon for both apple sauce and Jello is just gross, Mom). In the past the main compartment has also held a small Thermos for hot lunch instead of a sandwich container. There’s another narrower compartment on the outside to hold snacks (a tub of crackers and a granola bar or two. And I have boys who appreciate crackers that aren’t cold).

Dimensions:
Main compartment: 25cm/10" tall, 20cm/8" wide, 10cm/3.5" deep
Smaller compartment: 22cm 8.5" tall, 20cm/8" wide, 5cm/2"deep

These Roots lunch bags are available at Costco on and off during the year, and—being Costco—it’s one of those hit or miss things to watch for in off seasons. If you see them grab them quick, you never know when they'll be back. They’re usually promoted next to matching Roots backpacks (another great buy I’d highly recommend—$20 CAD and extremely durable, with multiple pockets for proper weight distribution and gadgets my kidlets don’t possibly need).

No, I’m not receiving any compensation from Costco, or Roots, or anyone else for this review (if only). This is a case of simply walking into my laundry room, seeing these bad boys hanging to dry, and thinking they were one of the best buys in a long time. 

So I had to share.

Another day, another patch...

It's at the point where the boys' older play jeans (read: jeans that have been previously patched) are being outgrown, or are raggy, or are developing even more holes in other places (HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!).

And of course the boys are begging for me to patch their favourite pair just once. more. please...!

While flattering, I'm not patching a pair of play jeans 14 times. It's just ain't happenin'...

So I've decided to sacrifice the pockets of those dying jeans to patch other pairs. Yes, the favourite-must-have-super-comfortable-and-can't-live-without play jeans are getting one last go, but only because these pocket patches take a fraction of the time and planning of previous patches. And I needed a test subject, heh.

My nine-year-old appreciates these pocket patched jeans far more than the other patches I've used in the past. Apparently he's sophisticated. ::snort::

These patches definitely rank beginner for a difficulty rating. If you've got the jeans to spare, they're an efficient and easy patch to install.

Cut the pocket out of the sacrificial jeans, clipping close to the edges, and cutting the inside pocket denim out (no, this won't be a functional pocket on your knee, sorry). Iron everything nice and flat and pin the pocket patch in place. Straight stitch as closely to the outermost line of stitching on your pocket to hide your stitching. Then stitch along the second more inner line of stitching for more durability, and you're finished.

There's a skull hiding under the double patch, as the boy blew out the knee in another spot. There's a twisted rock-paper-scissors joke in there somewhere, too...

So... when do I get the prize for "woman who goes to enormous lengths to avoid buying her children new pants"...? Surely I've been nominated by now? Ha!

Jean Patching Rebooted: Skulls and Robots

Over the years I've patched a few jeans.

Okay, maybe more than a few.

Point being: "the monster jeans aren't cool anymore, Mom!" /whine

Then: "The star jeans aren't cool anymore, Mom!" /whine

So here I am, striving for a newer, cooler jean patch.

Because eff me if I'm going to let my kids' knees poke out of their pants. What else am I supposed to do—BUY them new jeans?!

BWAHAahahhahahaha!

Yeah, no. I'd rather pay my mortgage, thanks. [::snort::]

Anyhow. I figured in my continued quest to make patched play jeans cool again I'd better share my latest designs.

Skulls and robots, ahoy!

The instructions are simple, and the supplies few. You'll need the jeans-to-be-patched, some sacrificial jeans to supply some denim patches, a sewing machine with a little know-how, thread, and a pen.

I was hesitating to write out the instructions for this as most people comfortable with their sewing machine can eyeball my pics and know exactly what they're doing, but since I know I have my own knowledge blind spots, I'll outline the breakdown...

1. From the mountain of denim reserved for patching, select a colour that works with the jeans that need patching. (Or just whatever you've got, really. It doesn't matter too much. Play jeans, remember?) Settle on a shape (oval, square, or rectangle), that best covers the hole and any surrounding worn denim on the knee. Cut it out of the patching denim.

NOTE: Do NOT cut your patch out of the jeans-to-be-patched. Also? Don't sew while drinking, else you may have more sacrificial denim. Accidents happen, yo. And it's bad luck to scoff at free wisdom. [::shifty eyes::]

2. Iron both the (clean) jean pantleg, and the patch-to-be.

3. Using a pen, carefully draw on the details you're going to stitch in over and around the patch. It's the easiest way to ensure your lines are decent, as once you've got that pantleg hiked up around the machine, it gets difficult to see where you're headed.

4. Pin in place.

5. Using a close zigzag stitch, sew that mofo down! Remember to reverse to lock in the ends, and don't be afraid to jump from one eye to the next without clipping those threads—it's far quicker, and as long as you've locked in the ends of your stitching in each new area it shouldn't unravel. Clip threads close once you're finished sewing.

That's it. Really difficult, right?

Wondering which patches are the quickest of the monster patches; swirls, squiggles, and stars; and these robots and skulls? Well, the monster patches are the most labour-intensive and take the longest to make. The stars, squiggles, and swirl patches are the quickest (no need to mark the jeans and all lines are connected). These skulls and robots aren't that much longer than squiggles, stars, or swirls.

Things to remember: They're patched jeans, they're not winning any beauty contests. The can, however, be rather cute in a shabby chic kind of way, so don't get bogged down by perfection. Your best bet to land the cutesy homemade meant-to-be-imperfect style is to deliberately NOT go for perfection. Make them a touch wonky. Make it obvious you weren't going for crisp lines, and no one will question that it didn't turn out exactly as you'd planned.

I figure if you're too much of a perfectionist to loosen up and nail that shabby chic look, you're either (a) going to lose your mind during this exercise or (b) wouldn't let your kids wear patched play jeans anyway...

So loosen up. Relax. Pour yourself a glass of wine* and rid yourself of those idealist notions...

Happy patching!




* Never mind.

The Art of Purging a Fridge

First, let me just say for the record that I am against food waste.

I am that person who freezes leftover roast turkey meat for turkey pot pie or turkey stew when the family is no longer turkefied tired of eating turkey leftovers.

I'll feed the kidlets yogurt for after school snack when I know the best before date is approaching.

I freeze the leftover loaf of fresh white bread from stew to use as garlic bread at a later date.

I partition meals so there's likely no leftovers because Mr Lannis is really the only one in our family who is, er, enthusiastic about leftovers. (At this point in our marriage I'm certain he's at least part garbage disposal.)

Hell, today? Today I'm going to make a pear crisp because the remaining half a bag of pears from our Good Food Box last month went soft already.

Point being: I plan around ensuring there is no food waste.

Our fridge is managed the same way I manage the rest of our household... I budget. I shuffle. I plan. I move things around and plan meals based on best before dates. I write up a tentative schedule of meals based on what we currently have, and shop to obtain the niggly bits necessary.

I am also the only one who cleans and purges.

Mr Lannis will keep food in the fridge too long, forever, in the hope it will become a rotten, fermented mess and will one day—after the crash of civilization during the pending apocalypse—make us relatively rich in his will-be-assumed gourmet tendencies.

You know what this week is? Mr Lannis? He's on afternoon shift right now.

What does that mean? Well, aside from meaning I need to keep seven kids from being noisy so he can sleep in in the morning, it means the sweep out of the fridge is about to happen.

Dun dun DUN!

That salad dressing that's three days past its date but Mr Lannis insists he might remember to use in the next week? Gone.

The 1" chunk of wrinkly, part-frozen, Spanish onion sitting within the confines of not one but two Tupperware containers in order to contain its stink fragrance? Gone.

The three bread loaf heel slices sitting in separate bread bags that everyone has abandoned? Okay, busted, I put those in the freezer because I'm hoping to devise a reason to use them (bread crumbs for tourtière is likely)...

That bottle of smokey barbeque sauce that no one in the house likes but someone (hint: not me) HAD to have? Oh yeah, you can bet that bad boy's rinsed down the drain...

So yeah. While I laud The Mrs' old weekly challenge of no food waste—there definitely comes a time when the fridge needs purging...

And it's strategic... ensure the delusional would-be champion of food waste isn't around... heh.

Costuming season: It never really ends.

Know what this is?

Look at this glorious haul! LOOK AT IT!

Any ideas? Anyone? Bueller?

This is a pile of thrift store fabric finds. For JordanCon 2015's costume.

Yes.

Yes, I've already decided.

Yes, I've already been out hunting.

Yes, there's a plan.

And yes, I'm obsessed giddy already.

An inventory of what is folded not-so-neatly top to bottom:

- one random piece of material, soft but with a burlap-like appearance
- tri-coloured suede skirt
- one faux suede cream drapery panel (yeah, I'm that dick who bought one and not the other... heh.)
- two matching pieces: a suede button down shirt and knee-length skirt, complete with shoulder pads.
- one king flat sheet

That pile of fabric not only proves I've rescued some woman out there from wearing a puke-brown suede power suit, it also represents a cumulative cost of $34 and the very beginning of the insanity busy work for next year's JordanCon.

It's a hobby that sparks my imagination, and this time around I plan on working farther out of my comfort zone than in the past.

My most proud purchase—aside from the $8 tri-colour suede skirt that I'll be hacking up for repurposing because new suede is fucking expense, yo!—would be the cream-textured king size sheet.

Textured, king sized sheet, and in the exact colour I was searching for, at the first place I looked (Goodwill for the win!).

I can't even conceive of how much breathable, lovely textured cotton in such bulk would cost at the fabric store... actually, for a decently weighed cotton it's a mini heart attack, and it certainly wouldn't exist in such glorious width for whatever purpose I declare.

This is why I hit thrift stores first.

Now everyone can start guessing, because this certainly isn't enough to reveal the surprise, nor will everything be remaining the colours you see...

And if you're already privy to the secret, shhh... keep your traps shut!

(Please.)

Never Ending Mending

So. It's late February and I'm mending jeans. A lot of jeans. Unexpectedly.

Why unexpectedly? Oh, because this is snowpants season and these boys aren't outside rolling around on hills busting out knees. Or at least if they are, they have a pair of snowpants buffering impact on the jeans themselves.

Or at least you'd think so.

That's eleven pairs of jeans right there. Some with double knee blow outs. Whee... ugh.

But this? This is deja vu. I swear it wasn't that long ago that I tackled a pile this size.

Okay—I checked. It was around a dozen pairs in December(!). And the pile is already this large again.

That's it; clearly the mending pile breeds. Suddenly I understand.

Either that or my kids are ninjas and they're practicing an ancient art of destroying denim...

Oy.

The Red Toaster

One day our toaster decided to be a jackass to no longer latch when the lever was engaged.

As in: it no longer wanted to toast. In essence, it suddenly was toast. (Heh.)

I mentioned it to Mr Lannis, said we could probably find a good deal at our local second hand store.

I'm cheap frugal. I love me a good second hand store, because I love a good deal and I like to recycle.

Normally I don't purchase things that require electricity at thrift stores—you never know if they're going to work—the exceptions being small appliances like irons (I have two, each with a designated task: one for sewing and one to lift stains from the carpet), and toasters. If they bust, well, it only cost $3 so what does it really matter? A toaster is a toaster, and an iron is an iron after all—their jobs are pretty straightforward, and bells and whistles don't matter much when the nutshell of your job is to get warm.

Anyhow.

Shortly thereafter I go grocery shopping. There, in the aisle with the chips, I spot a schnazzy red toaster calling my name.

She's purdy.

 She was $19.99.

Nope, can't justify that.

In Ontario we also have tax, so that toaster wouldn't just cost $19.99, but $19.99 plus 13% tax. Yeah. Pretty, right? Ugh.

So I go home and whine relate the tale of the shiny red toaster to Mr Lannis, who helpfully points out I have no business in the chip aisle has decided we need to suck it up and jiggle the lever for our old toaster until the damn thing decides to latch.

Of course, he's not making toast for (sometimes seven) kids in the morning before school.

Off I go the next week, grocery shopping as per my routine, and there's the shiny red toaster again. This time it's on sale.

$14.97. A savings of $5.02.

This I can justify. It's pretty. I like red. We need a toaster. I tell Mr Lannis.

Mr Lannis says I should go ahead and buy the toaster (okay, you got me—I'd already made up my mind to buy it at this point, but I like to give him the illusion that his opinion sways me run things by him anyway).

So back I go to grab me a red toaster. At the self-checkout, my stomach drops when my marvelous toaster scans in at full price.

Yes: $19.99!

What shenanigans is this...?

I call the attendant over, and she sends someone to check the posted price. Yep, $14.97. It's registering incorrectly.

Oh, and there's a policy at this particular store (Zehrs, a Loblaws sister store), that dictates that if you catch something ringing in at the wrong price it is then free—up to a $10 amount.

So I get $10 off the price of my toaster.

Really truly, no guff!

After tax this girl came to a whopping $6.92.

One little red toaster, sitting on my counter, making me smile for multiple reasons.

It wanted to come home with me.

The Good Food Box

A while ago I mentioned I was excited about our local Good Food Box.

And I still am.

And I've been keeping score--a tally of what we're getting in our box for our $15 each month, as well as the cost of the same produce that week if I were to have bought it at my favourite grocery store.

My savings? About $15-$17. SERIOUSLY.

WHEN DID VEGETABLES GET SO EXPENSIVE?! Gah!

This month's box (because I know you're wondering) held this--

10 lbs red potatoes
5 lbs apples
2 lbs onions
2 lbs carrots
1 pkg mushrooms
1 pkg radishes
1 pkg blackberries
1 head iceberg lettuce
1 zucchini
1 broccoli crown
1 bunch bananas

All for $15. This is the large box. The smaller box sells for $10.

Other months we've received items such as squash, spinach, kiwi, celery, blueberries, cabbage, parsnips, oranges, beets, green onion... generally you always get a bag of potatoes, carrots, onions, and apples--it's generally local or at least more easily attainable food in Canada.

All of it is fresh, delicious, and saves a chunk of our grocery bill.

Truthfully, I'm unsure how far this initiative stretches. There are plenty of Good Food Box programs across Ontario, but I don't know if it's Canada-wide, or provincially run on a hit or miss basis (Google tells me Manitoba has the program set up, but I'm too lazy I didn't check across the country).

I first heard of it when I was living in Toronto years ago, and I know Toronto still has their Good Food Box foodshare program set up (Toronto peeps: you are LUCKY! There's a fabulous variety of boxes available to you: organic, pre-cut, fruit-only... plenty of selection for everyone from busy families to seniors. Definitely worth checking out).

If you're in my ballpark of the province more information can be found here (though it seems out of date: the prices have increased slightly from what's listed). For anyone out of the Simcoe County area a quick Google search will show you what's available to you.

Mm. Food. What can I say? It's exciting.

Good Food Box: Goodness me!

I adore our Good Food Box program. It's a foodshare program that helps the community in providing local farmers with business, and families with access to affordable fruit and vegetables.

And anyone can order a Good Food Box--it's not a program reserved for low income families. The whole point is to ensure everyone in the community has access to cheap healthy food.

(One of Mr Lannis' classic grocery rants is that it's cheaper to fill your cart with junk than with healthy alternatives. If I can record it, I will.)

Until recently, it'd been years since I've benefited from the program--you order your box in advance and go pick it up on a certain day. The last time I took part was ::coughcough:: umpteen years ago when I lived in university residence...

See? It's been a while.

Anyhow. Got on board last month in our new(ish) community, and when pickup day came around it felt like Christmas.

What comes in the box each month is a complete surprise until you pick it up...

Whee! <-- actual unfeigned glee.

Mr Lannis was far more enthusiastic for this endeavor after I tallied the contents of our $15 large box haul would cost us $34.20 at our favourite grocery store.

(Our box included a 10lb bag of potatoes, 4lbs of apples, 3lbs of pears, 2lbs of beets, 2lbs of onions, 3lbs of carrots, 2lbs of plums, a Romaine lettuce, a tub of mushrooms, a cauliflower, an English cucumber, uh... and I think that was it...)

And it's all as local as it can get--September and October being the best time of year to order the box as it's crammed full of in-season items... later in the year the produce just travels farther. Right about now it's all local and they're looking for places for it to go...

Anyhow, after writing that tally out and showing Mr Lannis the financial benefit of The Box, well, suddenly the inconvenience of ordering and picking up this box of produce was exciting to him, too... heh.

(I never quite understood his original lack-of-enthusiasm... since it would never be him in charge of order and pickup as it's exactly the kind of chore that falls under the category of sundry administrative items that occurs on my side of our partnership. But whatev.)

The thing about the Good Food Box, though, is that I always end up forcing us to eat a certain way in order to consume the box in its entirety before the next one arrives.

I'd forgotten this wonderful and frustrating fact.

And lately we've been in the habit of not eating potatoes. I know--weird, right?

Um. And beets. I can categorically say I've never purchased a bag of beets before.

But for the record, this hidden-beet red velvet bar recipe is not too shabby... heh. (Thanks, Dawn!)