Yesterday morning, I realized I had no ground cinnamon left for the baked oatmeal I was making. But I found a big stick of cinnamon I'd bought at the big central market when I was there buying my turkey in November. (A side note: I had also bought two very affordable metal and rubber slingshots which I thought the boys would love for Christmas--and which were a tenth of the price of the beautiful wooden ones I'd seen on Etsy, but I had them in my carry-on when I flew in to the states and they were confiscated by TSA, who did not think that metal slingshots were appropriate carry-on items. I'm pretty sure some TSA children are at this moment causing all kinds of mischief with them somewhere near Miami airport).
So I needed cinnamon and had a big yard-long stick of it. I broke it into pieces over my knee, put it in a bag and smacked the pieces with a hammer, and then ground the pieces into powder in my coffee grinder (which is almost never used for coffee but rather for grains and seeds). It made just the right amount to refill my ground cinnamon container. And I felt like the conquering pioneer woman!
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