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Homemade Cinnamon Golden-Raisin Clif Bars

~ Emily ~ 7 Comments

Homemade Cinnamon Golden-Raisin Clif Bars.jpg

The first time I ate a Clif Bar was at the top of Vernal Falls in Yosemite. I was camping with my boyfriend’s (now husband) family. We had begun our hike with no goal in mind, but after a quick poll, we all determined it would be worth reaching the top. The Mist Trail offers the gamot of experiences – slippery rocks, skinny pathways, and sweeping vistas – and reaching the top was a physical, as well as mental, accomplishment.

We navigated those last rock stairs, pressing to the inside of the mountain to let others pass who were headed back down, and stepped onto a sunshine soaked plateau. I was in awe of the powerful surge of water flinging itself from such a height. I was also hungry! Tim had had the presence of mind to bring a couple snacks, so it was at the top of that rushing waterfall that I bit into my first Clif Bar. Maybe it was the endorphins from our climb speaking, but that Chocolate Chip Clif Bar was so ding dang delicious.

I’ve been a Clif Bar fan every since that mountain-top experience. We buy them in bulk from Costco (I was sad to see Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter disappear from the variety pack.) and I eat one almost every day. My favorite flavor rotates, but White Chocolate Macadamia and Coconut Chocolate Chip compete for the top spot often.

Homemade Clif BarsEven in the Costco pack, Clif Bars aren’t always practical for our tight budget and I’ve always wondered if I could replicate them at home to save some pennies. I’ve searched Pinterest multiple times but haven’t found what I was looking for, until last week.

Most copycat Clif Bar recipes didn’t have crispy rice cereal as an ingredient, despite that being a listed ingredient in the real thing. I wanted a recipe that had oats, crispy rice cereal, and didn’t rely on date paste as a sweetener. In walks Liv Lives Life with just what I was looking for, and a calorie count to boot.

The method is simple and relies on pantry staples. Oats and crispy rice cereal make up the bulk of the bars with flax meal for added nutrition. Honey and nut butter (I use crunchy peanut butter) act as the binder. There’s infinite possibilities for add-in customization, so you can recreate your favorite Clif Bar flavor or make up your own.

Homemade Cinnamon Raisin Clif Bars 1Now, these don’t quite have the Clif Bar texture, but the delicious factor makes up for any nuance lacking in the texture department. You could also try quick cookie oats, instead of old fashioned, to get a more dense crumb.

I adapted Liv’s basic Clif Bar method to create these Cinnamon Golden-Raisin beauties. I used a dram of Vanilla Butternut extract instead of vanilla which added a hint of butterscotch to these bars. Any type of raisin would work in this recipe, but I like the sweetness of golden raisins.

These Cinnamon Golden-Raisin Clif Bars are a great supplement to the pre-packaged variety. Plus, they taste like cookies…

Homemade Cinnamon Golen Raisin Clif Bars

Homemade Cinnamon Golden-Raisin Clif Bars
Author: Emily C. Gardner
Prep time: 10 mins
Total time: 10 mins
Serves: 8
Oatmeal raisin cookies in a simple, homemade Clif Bar form.
Ingredients
  • 1/2 cup peanut butter
  • 1/3 cup honey
  • 1 dram (3/4 teaspoon) vanilla butternut extract or 1 teaspoon vanilla
  • 1 1/4 cups crisp rice cereal
  • 1 cup old fashioned oats
  • 2 tablespoons flax meal
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/2 cup golden raisins
Instructions
  1. Line an 8 x 8 inch pan with waxed paper (cut one strip that fits the bottom of the pan and allow some extra to stick up above the rim of the pan to use as handles). Set aside.
  2. In a saucepan, heat peanut butter and honey over medium heat until melted. Take off heat and add vanilla butternut flavoring. Stir to combine. Allow to cool while you mix together the other ingredients.
  3. In a large bowl, stir together the rice cereal, oats, flax meal, cinnamon, and golden raisins. Mix well – the flax meal has a tendency to stay clumped together. Add the peanut butter mixture to the oat mixture and stir until all the ingredients are well coated.
  4. Pour batter into the prepared pan and press down firmly with a spatula until the top is even. You want to press down as firmly as you can so the bars are dense and hold together when cut.
  5. Let the bars cool in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes before cutting. To cut, lift the mixture out of the pan with wax paper handles. Cut into desired size bars – I liked what 8 pieces produced.
  6. Wrap individually in plastic wrap and store in refrigerator. (You don’t need to eat them cold, they just stay better in the fridge.)
Serving size: 8 bars Calories: 231

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What I’m Into – April 2014

~ Emily ~ 3 Comments

What I'm IntoLinking up with Leigh Kramer to share what I’ve been into lately.

This post contains affiliate links. Thanks for supporting Primitive Roads!

I put an SOS out on Facebook for songs along the lines of Firework by Katie Perry and Glitter In The Air by Pink for a playlist I’ve entitled “Get It Girl.” Sometimes I just need some powerhouse music to get me through an afternoon slump or a tough workout. I believe Tim was a tad embarrassed that this playlist now exists on his Spotify account. What would song would you add?

Get It Girl

For better or for worse, coffee and I are back in a relationship. I do half-caf so the little guy doesn’t go haywire. I’ve had to go back to decaf, but the rest of this still applies… I used to enjoy my coffee black, but man I’m digging the creamer lately. Tim and I are always looking for ways to cut our grocery budget, so I tried my hand at making my own coffee creamer. Three ingredient success! (To be honest, we preferred the sweetness of store-bought creamer because we are sugary like that. But, we’ve switched over to half and half.)

Homemade Coffee CreamerI was faced with some major disappointment last month. Though I certainly learned a ton about when God’s plan includes no, I’m thrilled that His most recent no wasn’t an absolute no. Tim and I are headed to California in May to visit family and friends!

Our little guy keeps growing. Can’t believe he’s 3 months old already. His Uncle David and Aunt Holly watched him one evening last week so Tim and I could enjoy a pre-anniversary (May 11th is 2 years) dinner out. We had an amazing meal at Satay Bistro, which prompted me to post on Experience CDA, our semi-forgotten local interest blog. If you need some food envy, don’t miss the photos in the review.

The SUN!

Eating

Despite counting calories in anticipation of our California trip, we’ve consumed far too many of these microwave cookies. Tim perfected the recipe and they are a mondo treat. More details coming soon!

Microwave Cookie

Made this Skinny Spinach Lasagna on Monday – super delicious, even my meat loving Hubs didn’t mind being a vegetarian for the evening.

Continued the winning streak of my current favorite cookbook with this Cucumbers Vinaigrette recipe. Great as a side dish for summer BBQs.

Cucumbers Vinaigrette

Cucumbers Vinaigrette 

  • 2 medium cucumbers, peeled and sliced into 1/8″ rounds
  • 1/4 cup cider vinegar
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground dried mustard
  • ground black pepper to taste

Combine vinegar, sugar, salt, dried mustard, and pepper. Toss with cucumbers. Serve or refrigerate until ready to use. (Only 36 calories for 1/4 of the recipe!)

Planning to buy a rosemary plant to have year-round so I can make this Rosemary Lemonade any time I want.

Rosemary Lemonade 4I made a couple rounds of overnight refrigerator oats because I miss the Chilled Swiss Oatmeal at Corner Bakery.

Reading

I started the Divergent trilogy. Loved the first installment and am moving slowly through Insurgent.

Wrote a review for Love Idol by Jennifer Dukes Lee over on Kindred Grace in which I talk about eating mud pies. I was challenged and encouraged by the message woven throughout the book.

Still trying to finish Rhinestone Jesus after taking a break to finish Love Idol.

I’ve been running again, so I loved reading this post about comparison by Mandy Scarr.

Angry Socks and Silences by Bronwyn Lea is such a wonderfully candid look at marriage.

Pinning

Pinteresting is my go-to activity while nursing James. I probably should use that time more wisely, but thus far Pinterest seems to be what works. I’ve done some reorganizing (which I love to do) of my food related boards. Check out these new additions:

This gorgeous dress – I’m dubious that it’s actually easy to sew…

I’ve always wondered if I could pull this look off.

I wouldn’t mind having this flower installation in my house.

Genius idea I wish I had thought of before studying abroad.

Writing

I got to interview Trina Holden about her fabulous book Embracing Beauty.

Tim and I have been eating a lot of pizza lately. When we don’t have time to make our own crust, we like to jazz up store-bought crust.

My simplifying rampage continues… #ECGsimplifies

I wrote some poetry, which I never do.

Throwing open my windows and stepping into the confessional booth with two vulnerable posts.

What have you been up to this month?

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The Hair Confessional

~ Emily ~ 6 Comments

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a priest, sitting behind that grate, hearing people expose the darkness inside their souls? Well, you’re about to find out because this post is as good as me stepping behind that curtain and confessing a rather embarrassing sin. (Can you tell I’ve never actually participated in a legit confessional session?)

I’ve always had a thing about my hair. A thing I now know is pride. Aside from a misstep in seventh grade that involved uneven bangs and short layers, I’ve always had long locks. And those locks have always been a light shade of yellow.

I grew up in Southern California, where the seemingly endless Summer helped me retain my natural blonde, with a smattering of sun bleached highlights. The two things most people noted about my appearance were my height and my hair. Over the years I began to link my hair with any good vibes I felt about my physical features. In a sea of girls with blonde from a box, I also loved that my golden hue was natural.

Life post high school found me in the Midwest, where four distinct seasons meant less sun exposure and a slowly darkening mane. I still had summers in SoCal to help maintain my blonde, but it had made a distinct turn for towards the dark side. Those days were my first indication I may have put too much stock in my long, blonde locks.

As the years went by, and my geographical location changed from England to Missouri, California to Idaho, my hair has continued to change too. There were brief periods of time when I thought I could hang on to the sun bleached blonde of my youth, but our move to Idaho solidified my current honey hue.

In isolation, I don’t mind the color of my hair, but in comparison, I long for the straw instead of wheat. Tim has heard me bemoan my darkened strands more times that I’d like to admit. Multiple hairdressers have volunteered to add some highlights but I’ve always resisted the artificial solution.

Until last Friday. I got my hair colored for the first time.

The Hair Confessional

It’s been four days and I’m still not completely sold on the result, but I’m glad I did it. Why? Because the decision and process of highlighting my hair (which I realize is almost second nature to some folks, who are probably reading this thinking I’m a weirdo…) has shown a bright light into a dusty place in my heart that needs some cleaning.

Some observations:

  • I had let my hair become a source of pride. Part of the reason I resisted dying my hair was my inability to say I was a natural blonde – something I had previously worn like a badge of honor.
  • I had let my hair become part of my identity. Sure, hair color is listed on your driver’s license, but it doesn’t define your worth. I had attributed personal value to my hair color and, by association, where I grew up. I love Southern California and my hair had always been a reminder to me and others that I came from the Golden State. But my worth is not dependent on my hair or my hometown. I need to always remember that my identity is in Christ.
  • I had let my hair dictate my approval rating. This process was just further evidence that I care too much about what others think. Track with me here… I was always afraid that if I got compliments about my highlighted hair it would mean those people liked it better the that way which would mean they liked me better or thought I was prettier in an unnatural state. I didn’t want anyone’s approval to be based on something that wasn’t intrinsic to me. Convoluted, I know. And, even if they did, it shouldn’t matter. Again, my identity and value come from Christ, not my hair or getting other people’s approval.

“‘Go!’ God tells us. “Your heart has been untangled from the false distortions of love. You are no longer tied down by fears of rejection or disapproval or popular opinion. If you forget how much I love you, which you probably will, do not lose heart. Turn back to Me, and I will send you out again with a command: Love your neighbors as yourselves.”

Jennifer Dukes Lee in Love Idol

I don’t want to be tied down by a fear of rejection or disapproval or popular opinion. If highlighting my hair taught me anything, it taught me this: I don’t want a small thing like blonde hair to get in the way of experiencing the true love and acceptance of my Savior.

To learn more about “letting go of your need for approval and seeing yourself through God’s eyes,” pop over to Kindred Grace and read my full review of Love Idol by Jennifer Dukes Lee. (There’s only two more days to enter the giveaway for your chance to win one of three copies of Love Idol!)

Rolling Pins and Learning Curves

~ Emily ~ 6 Comments

Rolling Pins and Learning Curves

There is comfort in mastery. I love when something becomes familiar and easy, like I’ve been doing it all my life – when you can finally say, “I’ve got this. I don’t need any help.”

Using a rolling pin was one of those tasks I was pleased to master. I spent many hours in the kitchen with my mom growing up and I always (and still do) admired her skill with that wooden cylinder. It was like an extension of her arm as she smoothed out pie dough, creating a perfect round.

Our rolling pin was of the short, sturdy variety. It had two curvy handles connected by a metal rod running through middle of the base. It actually was a rolling pin. While your hands remained static on the handles, the base rolled this way and that around the metal rod. I learned to push the edges with my thumbs while holding it hovering over flour to make the surface non-stick. I learned to start from the middle and gently arch outward to create an even thickness. I learned reposition my body as well as the pin when rolling so the dough spread from every angle.

That rolling pin has been my standard for rolling pins ever since because that’s the one I learned on. It’s the one I mastered and feel comfortable handling. But, it’s my mom’s rolling pin, so when I got married and moved out, I no longer had access to my favorite rolling pin. I was forced to use a rolling pin I had gotten as a wedding gift.

This pin was long and skinny, a professional looking rolling device I’d seen chefs use on The Food Network. I was intimidated by the narrow shaft that didn’t have handles and seemed much too lengthy. It felt awkward in my hands. I dreaded making sugar cookies or pie dough because I’d have to use what I didn’t feel comfortable using.

It’s been almost two years since I received that rolling pin. I was making calzones earlier this week and caught myself wielding that rolling pin with ease. The small lumps of pizza dough became flat discs in seconds as I maneuvered the wooden cylinder like it was an extension of my arms.

After months and months of it feeling cumbersome and foreign, I had mastered that rolling pin. And I loved this new pin just as much as the one I learned on.

I haven’t been able to escape the similarities between rolling pins and the curveballs life throws our way. When God’s plan differs from my own or my circumstances change, I want to through my hands up in protest. Everything that had felt so natural quickly becomes uncomfortable and ungainly. I avoid engaging with the new and unfamiliar. I constantly compare it to the old ways I had mastered.

But, just like that rolling pin, I need to give the unexpected a chance. Even if it takes weeks, months, or years, the new will become standard, the uncomfortable will become familiar. There may be a learning curve, but I think God allows for us to take our time adjusting. And, eventually, that new rolling pin may become your favorite.

In Celebration of Wailing

~ Emily ~ 7 Comments

in Celebration of WailingThe weather here in Northern Idaho was still bouncing between Winter frost and Spring thaw while Tim and I were on our little staycation a couple weeks back. So, after a
depressingly chilly day or two when I was thankful for the condo’s powerful heater, I did the happy dance around our borrowed living room as the sun rose brightly one morning. This called for fresh air so I opened all the windows, enjoying the cool breeze as I folded laundry and washed dishes.

Not only was I afforded a constant flow of Spring air, but because the condo was on the ground floor, a few feet from the sidewalk, I had a steady soundtrack from the day unfurling outside our windows. Several people shuffled by with dogs on jingling leashes. The mailman rattled keys against metal as he delivered envelopes and packages to the group of mailboxes between buildings. Construction workers a couple blocks away shouted instructions over the scrape of bulldozers ripping up concrete.

The noise trade was not one sided. Passersby could also hear the soundtrack coming from inside our open windows. This included the clanking of dishes I was scrubbing clean, the lilting melodies of worship music streaming from my iPad, and the piercing cries of baby James.

Our son is not colicky and generally only fusses when he’s hungry or tired. But on this particular day, James decided to test his pipes. I looked up from the dishes just in time to see our peaceful sleeper go rigid, all appendages stuck straight out from his body. From his mouth erupted a most piercing scream that quickly transitioned to rhythmic wailing.  I hustled with dripping hands from behind the sink to console our crying child.

Normally, crying doesn’t bother me. I hold, rock, whisper, bounce, and shush for however long it takes for James to settle down. But this episode got my heart rate up as I frantically tried to quiet our screaming son. It dawned on me as I furtively glanced to the open windows that I was embarrassed by James’ outburst.

I could hear the neighbors thinking, “Ugh, there goes that baby again. I hope they leave soon.” I could imagine a person out for a stroll wondering if they should call the police for fear a baby was getting abused. What if James was disturbing someone? What if people thought I was a bad parent because my son wouldn’t stop crying?

I looked to the open windows and wished I had kept them closed.

in Celebration of Wailing (2)

The open windows provided a peak into our reality – James isn’t a perfectly peaceful baby and I’m not a perfectly calm mother.  Had I kept the windows closed, I may have been able to mask our imperfections but I would have perpetuated a lie.

There’s something to be said for throwing open the windows of our lives, allowing others to glimpse the imperfections in our hearts, minds, and souls. Vulnerability is an important part of building community, but it’s also scary and embarrassing at times. It’s much easier to keep our windows closed, to muffle our crying, and let passersby walk past thinking everything is hunky-dory.

God’s desire is to work through human vulnerability rather than overcome it.

Mike Erre in Astonished (a fantastic book!)

I think vulnerability is valuable enough for us to not only open our windows, but open our doors – invite people into our messes and our brokenness.

To borrow words from a popular song:

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see. Be the good [person] you always have to be. Conceal don’t feel, don’t let them know. Well, now they know.

Let it go, let it go. Can’t hold it back anymore.

Let It Go from Frozen

Oftentimes my tendency is to conceal, to not let people see the true nature of my heart. Let’s not be people who conceal the imperfections, who hold back for the sake of appearances. God shows up powerfully when we let it go. Let’s open our windows, open our doors, and celebrate wailing.