Home-made Herb Croutons!
So I’ve had this loaf of bread kickin’ around my kitchen for a while now… Stale, old, perfect.
My husband and I enjoy going to this local pub where they make the most amazing and simple salad of cucumber, croutons, marinated onions and ranch dressing. I wanted to recreate that at home (especially since that simple salad cost a not so simple $6)
It’s really easy to do, and you can make a whole pile for the week!
Cube the bread into one inch chunks and put in a large bowl. Drizzle with two tablespoons of the oil and toss. Drizzle the rest and toss again. sprinkle with sesonings and toss a third time until all the bread looks evently coated with seasoning and oil. Pour bread onto a baking sheet and season with a little salt and pepper. Place in a 400 degree oven. Toast for 6 minutes then remove and toss bread. Toast for another 6-8 minutes depending on the crunch you want. I like a medium chewy crunch so I do 6.
Add to your favorite salad or eat right off the pan! Either way, it’s perfect!
looking for some mome-made Marinated Onions? That’s easy as well.
Slice one red onion and put in a ziplock bag. cover with a cup and a half of red wine vinegar, 1 tsp. sugar, salt and pepper, and seal bag. Let sit for at least 30 minutes but it’s best if left overnight… YUM!!!
The sun was shining on the sea,Shining with all his might:He did his very best to makeThe billows smooth and bright–And this was odd, because it wasThe middle of the night.The moon was shining sulkily,Because she thought the sunHad got no business to be thereAfter the day was done–“It’s very rude of him,” she said,“To come and spoil the fun!”The sea was wet as wet could be,The sands were dry as dry.You could not see a cloud, becauseNo cloud was in the sky:No birds were flying overhead–There were no birds to fly.The Walrus and the CarpenterWere walking close at hand;They wept like anything to seeSuch quantities of sand:“If this were only cleared away,”They said, “it would be grand!”“If seven maids with seven mopsSwept it for half a year.Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,“That they could get it clear?”“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,And shed a bitter tear.“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”The Walrus did beseech.“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,Along the briny beach:We cannot do with more than four,To give a hand to each.”The eldest Oyster looked at him,But never a word he said:The eldest Oyster winked his eye,And shook his heavy head–Meaning to say he did not chooseTo leave the oyster-bed.But four young Oysters hurried up,All eager for the treat:Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,Their shoes were clean and neat–And this was odd, because, you know,They hadn’t any feet.Four other Oysters followed them,And yet another four;And thick and fast they came at last,And more, and more, and more–All hopping through the frothy waves,And scrambling to the shore.The Walrus and the CarpenterWalked on a mile or so,And then they rested on a rockConveniently low:And all the little Oysters stoodAnd waited in a row.“The time has come,” the Walrus said,“To talk of many things:Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–Of cabbages–and kings–And why the sea is boiling hot–And whether pigs have wings.”“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,“Before we have our chat;For some of us are out of breath,And all of us are fat!”“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.They thanked him much for that.“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,“Is what we chiefly need:Pepper and vinegar besidesAre very good indeed–Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,We can begin to feed.”“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,Turning a little blue.“After such kindness, that would beA dismal thing to do!”“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.“Do you admire the view?“It was so kind of you to come!And you are very nice!”The Carpenter said nothing but“Cut us another slice:I wish you were not quite so deaf–I’ve had to ask you twice!”“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,“To play them such a trick,After we’ve brought them out so far,And made them trot so quick!”The Carpenter said nothing but“The butter’s spread too thick!”“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:“I deeply sympathize.”With sobs and tears he sorted outThose of the largest size,Holding his pocket-handkerchiefBefore his streaming eyes.“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,“You’ve had a pleasant run!Shall we be trotting home again?’But answer came there none–And this was scarcely odd, becauseThey’d eaten every one.