Stop, collaborate and listen

I've been wanting to make homemade vanilla for a long time.  As in years.  Except I never got around to ever making any.  Well, it seemed like maybe it would be hard, plus I'm lazy.

So imagine my joy when I found this at my favorite farmers' market:

It's a vanilla making kit,  in case it
doesn't translate.

This is a lazy person's dream!  A cute bottle, directions, and vanilla beans.  Since a four ounce bottle of organic vanilla is $10, I figured paying $14 for this was reasonable.

All I needed was some cheap vodka.

Because that's what the farmer* suggested: Find the cheapest vodka ever and pour that over the beans.  I thought maybe Eric would have vodka somewhere in the house, but it turns out he does not.  He's really more of a beer snob, so I probably should have seen that coming.

Anyway, that was about six weeks ago.  Because if I can't get my act together to buy vanilla beans for eight years, why would I immediately go pick up some vodka?  You guys really need to think these things through.

Yadda yadda yadda, today I went into the liquor store all by myself, which was a new experience for me.  Hey, shut up, I'm not a fan of liquor stores, okay?  Plus when you don't drink, it's sort of pointless.

Turns out there are a lot of vodka options.  I could have bought vodka in a crystal skull decanter!  That was sort of temping, actually, except that A) it's not Halloween and B) it was expensive.  For a minute there I thought my cheapest option was a $20 bottle on sale, but the closer I got to the floor, the cheaper the vodka got, until finally I found a bottle for like $7.50.

Sold!

It took all my wherewithal not to start blabbing on about how I needed cheap vodka to make vanilla as I was checking out, because honestly, if someone told me that, I'd be all, riiiiight.  So I just watched as the cashier put my bottle in a paper bag for my privacy.  I have a sneaking suspicion she was not very impressed with my taste in vodkas.

Fancy!

Making vanilla is not hard, maybe because I have actual printed directions now.  I took out the vanilla beans, I sliced them in half lengthwise and tried to scrape out the insides into the jar, which was a nightmare, really, except it smelled good so I didn't mind.  Actually I was wondering why I couldn't just slit the beans and let the vodka do its thing without me having to scrape at all, but I'm not one to deviate from a recipe on the first go-around, so I didn't put my theory to the test.

Oh, and then I added most of my bottle of vodka and sealed it up and gave it a shake and put it in my pantry, since it's dark in there, and now I just have to remember to give it a shake every day for the next four weeks, and then!  Vanilla.  Turns out it's not rocket science.

Beans plus vodka equals... something.

So the good news is that it smelled amazing right off the bat.  But I think that's just because it turns out vanilla beans smell amazing.  I licked my finger to see what vanilla beans tasted like, and they're sort of lovely.  Then I licked my finger to see what vodka tasted like, except I must not have actually licked any vodka because I just tasted finger.  I didn't care enough to try again.

Apparently as I use this, I can keep topping it off with more cheap vodka.  The farmer claimed her bottle was on its fifth year with the same beans.  Vodka must be quite the preservative.  This could potentially be the jar that never ends.

I won't lie, I'm totally thinking this would make a great gift.   All I need is for it to not suck.

*What's the percentage that the farmer lady grew her own vanilla beans in a temperate zone?

Vanilla Ice, Ice Ice Baby.  Oh, come on, you KNEW that was coming, didn't you?  Word to your mother.