Things were a little more compartmentalized back then. There were no such things as super-mega-marts that sell everything under the sun. There were cobblers, and chandlers (candle-makers), and millers, and tailors, and yes, butchers.

The Damsel remembers as a child being taken to visit Great Aunt Hazel, who worked as a butcher. She wore her hair in a towering red beehive, and had a wonderfully big, husky laugh. She seemed a little bit scary in her red-streaked apron, wielding her giant cleaver.

Beehive hairdos are alarming, aren’t they?

You may be surprised to know that butcher shops still exist in most areas, if you take the time to search them out. You may find, as the Damsel has, that they have good prices and high quality. Check out this bacon:

Bacon this amazing would be super expensive in the grocery store, but from the butcher shop, it’s pretty reasonable. In order to get the good price, one has to buy it 10 pounds at a time, but since bacon freezes so well, that’s no problem.

The Damsel simply puts a couple pounds each of this nice, thick bacon into ziplock bags. Then she dreams of the deliciousness that is to come. Most people agree there’s really nothing quite like the smell of bacon cooking. (try baking it…it works great. Here’s how: bakin’ bacon)

At the Damsel’s favorite butcher shop, there’s more than good deals on bacon. There are roasts, steaks, sausage, and pretty much any carnivorous thing you hanker for. So look up “butcher” or “meat market” in your town, and you may be surprised at how much you like buying meat old school style.

Maybe you’re like the Damsel was before she saw the light. Maybe you think there is something magical that makes peanuts into peanut butter–some special process taking elaborate equipment and people in white overalls. And that “natural” peanut butter, costing approximately $123456789, is something even more complicated to make.

Gather close, dear students, and the Damsel will show you the truth.

It’s easy to make your own peanut butter. All you need is:

• peanuts (The Damsel was striving for a Jiffy-like result, so she used roasted, salted peanuts, but you can use any type you like)
• oil (vegetable or peanut oil; olive oil may taste off)
• something to puree it, like a food processor

That’s it.

Acquire two cups of shelled peanuts. Tedium Alert: Shelling your own takes time. When the Damsel first attempted this, scavengers ate the peanuts as fast as she could shell them.

This got less and less fun, and she at last resorted to child labor in the form of her adorable nieces who just happened by at the right time. One must shell a goodly amount of peanuts to yield 2 cups.

Put the peanuts, along with about a teaspoon of oil, into a food processor with the blade in place. Crank it up and let it go for a couple of minutes or until you’ve achieved the smoothness level you’re looking for. The Damsel loves crunchy peanut butter. In case you were wondering.

You may need to scrape the sides of the food processor and have another go, although the Damsel did no such thing. If it seems too thick, add a bit more oil, but the Damsel begs you to do so in very small increments. It’s easy to get too much.

Depending on how badly you want to duplicate “store” peanut butter, keep in mind that commercial crunchy peanut butter is made by adding chopped peanuts to creamy-style peanut butter. This detail may be lost once it’s between two pieces of bread. Your mileage may vary.

Yield: about a cup.

You just made peanut butter! It’s that easy. Your celery can now be filled properly.

Keep it in the fridge, since it’s got no nasty preservatives. You may or may not need to stir it a bit before using.

That smooth, beautiful layer of yum in lasagna?

Yes, dear students, it’s possible. And it’s as easy as kindergarten. The Damsel suspects you have everything you need, at this moment, in your kitchen. You could be five minutes away from ravishing ricotta. (Technically, this is called paneer. Ricotta is properly made from whey instead of milk. But it tastes the same to the Damsel.)

At the Old School, the Damsel likes to teach things they used to know by heart in the olden days, and put a new twist on them when she can. Hence the name “New Old School.” So today, she’ll teach you how to make ricotta cheese, an old skill indeed…but with a microwave.

First, set a colander over a dish. It needn’t be big. Line it with two layers of cheesecloth or paper towel.

Measure 2 cups of milk (the higher the fat content, the higher your yield) into a glass bowl or other microwavable vessel.

Add two tablespoons of plain white vinegar, or, in other words, one tablespoon per cup of milk. (This is the same thing you do when you need to “make” buttermilk in an emergency.) Add some salt if you like…the Damsel added 1/4 tsp.

Microwave this for 2-4 minutes, or until you see it start to bubble around the edges.

Stir gently. The milk should separate into solids vs. translucent liquid. Microwave another 30 seconds if needed and check again. The Damsel thought something was busted, because there was only a small amount of solids. But this is normal–the reason for the small yield was she used 1% milk.

Scoop the solids into the colander and let it drain until it reaches the desired consistency. Only a few minutes is usually necessary.

The resulting cheese is soft and sort of like cream cheese, but less firm. You’ll end up with anywhere between 2 tablespoons and 1/2 cup of cheese.

The Damsel loved its fresh taste. There was no hope of lasagna, so she spread it on a bit of crusty bread and thought it was delicioso. You can add herbs, which would be quite lovely. Or go sweet, with honey and fruit.

The Damsel remembers crying to Grandma one day as a newlywed, because a precious gallon of milk had gone sour. Grandma heated it on the stove until it separated, just like this. She may or may not have added more sourness with extra vinegar–the memory isn’t too clear. She drained it well, till the curds were a bit firm. To this she added salt and a bit of cream, and called it cottage cheese. Whether or not it should be called cottage cheese, or ricotta, or paneer, it’s a brilliant idea…a way to use up and not waste.

Speaking of that, the leftover liquid could be used for a baking project that calls for water or milk, adding nutrition.

Thanks, Kenji, for the microwave method.

Know anyone who struggles with dairy? Try this:

Almond Milk

You won’t need a pot. Just a paper grocery sack and a microwavable bowl. See? Toldja it was amazing. No candy thermometer required! For some reason, the Damsel harbors an unreasonable fear of candy thermometers.

Procure 4 quarts of popped popcorn.

You could air pop it, or do it old school on the stove as shown here. The Damsel doubts microwave popcorn would work very well because it already has gunk on it. Nice, plain, unadulterated popcorn is best.

Pour the popcorn into a regular brown paper grocery sack. Some people feel better about things if they spray the sack with Pam first, but the Damsel didn’t think it made much difference.

In a medium microwavable bowl:

• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1 cube butter or margarine (1/2 cup)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup karo syrup

Just put it all in the bowl. No need to even stir it at this point. Microwave for 2 minutes (tested on a fully armed microwave). Take it out–the stuff should look sort of excited…kind of foamy.  Stir, mixing all the ingredients well. Microwave for one more minute. Once again, the mixture will be boiling big time.

Add 1/2 teaspoon baking soda. Don’t skip this! Without it you’ll just have a mess. Stir well.

Pour the mixture over the popcorn in the paper sack. You will feel odd doing this, but persevere.

Roll the top of the sack down a time or two, and shake the bag to coat all the popcorn. The bag will get a bit damp in places. Try not to worry too much. Press forward.

Stick the whole bag into the microwave and nuke for 1 minute. Take the bag out, shake a few more times.

Put it back in the microwave for 1 final minute. Shake shake shake.

Now, things are pretty much done, but the caramel popcorn needs to harden and get crunchy. To help this along, the corn needs to be spread out. Some folks dump the corn out of the bag onto cookie sheets or wax paper. The Damsel, being naturally lazy, just cuts the paper bag so it can lay flat and spreads the corn out with a spoon. Careful! Hot sugar burns. You could even add peanuts at this point, and end up with something very like Cracker Jack.

After only a few minutes the caramel corn is ready for snarfing.

The three main types of oatmeal available in the typical market are: old-fashioned (rolled), quick and instant. Guess which one the Damsel prefers? Old-fashioned are less processed (quick oats are cooked and then dried) and have a nicer texture when cooked. Of course, that’s a matter of personal preference, but in the Damsel’s world, this is the case. Then there’s instant oatmeal, or in other words, flavored glue. Expensive flavored glue, compared to buying a sack of nice, natural, rolled oats.

Can you substitute old fashioned oats for quick oats in a baking recipe? Absolutely yes. The Damsel has done it about a billion times.

As a matter of fact, the Damsel can find no reason that quick or instant oats should exist in her house.

What about a hasty breakfast? Maybe you don’t want to mess around with cooking, getting pans dirty, etc.?  Check this out:

Take yer bowl. The one you want to eat oatmeal out of. Yes, that one. Measure 1/2 cup of rolled oats, 1 cup of water, and a few shakes of salt. Put the bowl in the microwave and nuke it for three minutes. Take it out, stir well. Add goodies and eat.

Quick enough for you?

It’s easy to adjust the amount, too. Just use double the amount of water vs. oats, like when cooking rice. You know the little saying? “When cooking rice, water’s twice.”

Rice . . . oatmeal . . . two of life’s little starchy pleasures.

Making herbal vinegar is as easy as kindergarten.

It’s up to you which kind of herbs to use. What herbs do you love? Start there. The Damsel loves sage, and has a boatload of it, so there you have it.

Take fresh, washed herbs. Tear large leaves into pieces–this gets more herbal goodness into the vinegar. Fill a container (such as a glass jar) to the top. Any size jar is fine, from tiny to large–just choose according to how many herbs you have.  Smell your fingers. Mmmm.

Pour apple cider vinegar over the herbs, filling the container to the brim. Stir or poke it a bit to make sure there are no hidden air pockets, and add more vinegar if necessary.

Screw on the lid. If it’s metal, first place a sandwich baggie, or something similar, over the top and then put on the lid. Metal and vinegar just don’t get along. Divide and conquer!

Wait. In about six weeks, the vinegar is ready to use. You can strain it out into something else, or use it right from the jar you made it in. You can use it any way you’d use flavored vinegar–for salads, bread dipping, or even for making your own mayonnaise.

Pour this into one of those fancy little bottles like they sell at Hobby Lobby, and you’ve got a simple, cheap, yet classy gift.

You could even be oh-so-brave and combine different types herbs. Or even add cloves of garlic. Do you dare?

**cough**

Just kidding. The Damsel knows you are all model students. Plus, Maria’s going to teach us how to do something perfectly wonderful.

I never cooked until I went to Italy.  I barely ate until I went to Italy.

I didn’t spend much time cooking while I was there but it was in a small town called Tirolo in northern Italy that I first discovered real, homemade, wholesome flavor, and I never wanted to even see a McDonalds again.  Three months later, upon my return to America, I couldn’t wait to get in the kitchen.

That was the first time I learned anything about MSG and organic, and the first time I’d ever even heard of a farmers market.  It was also the first time I heard whispers of BPA in the same breath as canned tomatoes.  Although General Mills is pulling BPA out of their organic canned tomatoes, I discovered that there was something to be said about making my own tomato sauce.

You need:

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 red onion, cubed

4 large garlic cloves, chopped

1½ tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary

1 celery stalk, cubed

8 medium tomatoes, diced

Make sure to buy organic celery and tomatoes.  According to The Daily Green, celery has no protective skin, which means you can’t wash off the chemicals used in growing it conventionally.  A tomato’s thin skin can allow pesticides and other chemicals to enter the flesh, too.

Most “homemade” tomato sauces call for canned tomatoes, but since we’re starting fresh, you’ll have to do some preparation.  Boil some water in a pot and throw in the tomatoes, removing them after one minute (carefully!).  In another container, put some ice cubes in with some water and put the tomatoes in there; the skin will slide off.  Cut the tomatoes in half and remove seeds and excess juices.  Dice them and you’re ready to go.

Put the oil and red onion (chopped into about ¼ inch cubes) in a large pot over medium heat.  Let the onion grow clear, not brown, by stirring frequently.  Add garlic, rosemary, and celery.  Cook until all the ingredients are soft, between 5 and 10 minutes.

Add the tomatoes to the mix and stir until boiling.  Put the lid on the pot at an angle to let some steam out after you lower the heat to a simmer.  Do some laundry, wash some dishes, or plop on the couch for a 30-minute episode of something while the sauce does its thing.  Add some salt, pepper, or anything else you’d like, and you’re done.  This sauce (4 cups of it) will keep for about a week in the refrigerator and about six months in the freezer, so you whenever you need emergency tomato sauce, it’ll be there.

Bio: Maria Rainier is a freelance writer and blog junkie. She is currently a resident blogger at First in Education and performs research surrounding online schools. In her spare time, she enjoys square-foot gardening, swimming, and avoiding her laptop.

Squash…a good thing to fall in love with. Grandma would have approved. After all, they are cheap, easy to grow, they store well, nutritious, low carb (if you care about that sort of thing) and good grief, they are easy to cook. Especially spaghetti squash.

They look like this. Not ridiculously large, like some banana squash. A regular, run-of-the-mill, non-weightlifting mama can easily pick one up. And, you will be surprised when you hear how you cook these. The Damsel is already bracing herself for the protestations of “No! That cannot be how you do it.” But dear students, you must learn to trust the Damsel.

Preheat your oven to 375.

Pierce the squash a few times with a sharp object. A knife, or even a skewer will do.

Put the squash in a baking dish if it makes you feel better about things. But you could just put the squash in the oven naked. You could.

Bake for one hour. Carefully (because it’s hot) cut it in half. (Yours may or may not get browned like this.)

Scoop out the seeds and the weird blobby stuff in the middle.

Take a fork and pull it across the flesh, which will separate into spaghetti-like strands. Transfer into a dish. You can scrape pretty darn close to the outer shell. It’s all good.

Now, you can eat this any way that seemeth you best. It tastes very mild, so it’s often eaten with a sauce. Yes, marinara works quite nicely. But many other sauces, Italian or otherwise, would be delicious. So is butter, salt and pepper, and snipped fresh herbs like basil, sage, and chives. There is no right or wrong, so don’t fret. Just eat your squash.

The Damsel has heard of other ways of fooling with spaghetti squash. She’s heard of people cutting it up first and then baking it. She’s heard of boiling it. Or nuking it. But although she grants people their right to cook squash in freedom, she’s not sure why you would do it hard when you can do it easy.

The Damsel’s crockpot insert is now completely, utterly, physically and emotionally encrusted with a deep layer of concrete food.

How can a person clean something like this without resorting to nasty oven cleaner or a jackhammer? How did Grandma do it in the old days?

The Damsel will show you, dear students, but you must be patient. This is not a process that allows immediate reuse of the pan. The upside is:  there shall be NO SCRUBBING.

Scrape any loose food out. In the Damsel’s case, this took only a few seconds because she did such a thorough job of burning this pan. Cover with hot water and add about a cup of vinegar. Set over low heat for at least 3 hours, or overnight.

Pour out the sludge. The Damsel was happy to see most all the burned-on food slide right out, with the exception of a few stubborn places. She restrained herself from chiseling at these spots, because this is a no-scrubbing experiment.

Dump some baking soda in the pan and add just enough water to make a thick paste. Spread on the stubborn spots with a generous hand. Put the lid on and try not to think about this pan for a “while.” A few hours. Maybe overnight again.

Next, the Damsel put a few cups of water in the pan and poured in another cupful or so of vinegar. Mostly because she knew it would fizz with the baking powder and that would be fun. Pretty much all the glued on food floated free. Whee! Then she washed it in her normal way with dishwashing liquid because she needed closure.

Two days later the pan is usable again. The Damsel supposes chiseling could have sped up the process, but she really wanted to see if it could be done sans elbow grease. Time consuming, perhaps, but easy…and old-schoolish, with no yucky chemicals.

The same method can be used with non-crockpot pans…just use your stovetop for the first step, on the lowest of the low settings. The Damsel has also heard of people repeating the steps if necessary.