cinema. cereal.

I was complaining the other day that Easy Rider made no sense to me.  Surely it is because I am too young.  I know that recently I was mapping out for my husband ("mapping out" is an overstatement, he is not stupid, but I cannot think of a lesser term) why Kids Today do not grok, and moreover are horrified by, Heathers.  ("Columbine," I said to him.  "Sea change.") 

Anyhow, the point is that my Pilates trainer has a son who is just 18, who I see frequently because the studio is in their home.  He always seems nice and deferential, but something was always not-quite-aligned, and then the very last time he and I encountered each other, I realized Omigod, he hears the bamp-chicka music when he sees me!  Ahahahaha.  I'm old enough to be his mother!  Ahahahahahaha!

Then I was thinking about how funny & ridiculous that was, but then also not, because he does not see me as old enough to be his mother, even though I am twice his age, because his mother is 20 years older than I am.  All his friends' mothers, too, surely.  Then, then, I was thinking of how in a few years, The Graduate will be somewhat puzzling -- at least in the Mid-Atlantic states, since it seems the kids today have parents who are about 60 already when they graduate from high school.  So, yeah.  Wild! 

Also, so many from the 20th-century of entertainment are just falling down dead!  Karl Malden!  Michael Jackson!  Farrah Fawcett!  Fred Talaveras!  Ed McMahon! I wonder who will be next, for time marches on.  (If you were ever on The Love Boat, watch out!)

My own son is catching on and growing up and maybe someday soon will be very politely ogling acquaintances of mine many years his senior.  Right now, I would just appreciate him marching on, which is a skill we are marshalling, this ability to follow instructions without a lot of cheeky backtalk and hairsplitting. 

His disobedience reminds me of the scene from The Incredibles, when Elastigirl is all "DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW," and Violet is all, "But you said that I would know better than you what we should do in an emergency, so I am going to TALK AND TALK AND DEFY YOU AND KNOW BETTER THAN YOU UNTIL THE HELICOPTER GETS HIT." It is not that we are being attacked by missles, mais non, but of course I am also not reneging on house rules. I am nothing if not a model of consistency in parenting. Hence, the shouting and maternal resentment. Honestly.

Oh, children are exhausting.  Good god.

But, now Garçon can make granola, and that is why we have decided to let him live here a little bit longer.

For a long time I searched for an acceptable granola recipe.  Oh, plenty of them were acceptable for homemade granola, but none of them were good.  I wanted to make granola at home like the stuff I bought in the store, but not like the stuff I bought in the store, because it was not homemade.  (I am aware of the fact that the sentence prior makes me seem like a goddamn lunatic.)

I wanted a granola that was sweet and toasty, a little clumpy, and also fatty, without being greasy.  Kind of like Cracker Jack, but wholesome, like hippie chicks might feed their kids for breakfast.  I used everyone's recipe, from all of my books -- Mark Bittman, Nigella Lawson, Mollie Katzen, Joy of Cooking -- I tried recipes from the internet pointed out by girlfriends, and while every batch of every product was surely edible, it was never what I wanted.

The last thing I did before I rode my bicycle to my destruction was make a batch of granola from Alton Brown's recipe, more or less, which I had long known about, but had not used, for how many disappointments must I bear?  I noticed, though, sifting through stuff on my desk last month (before my crash, I was very summertime-busy for a major reörg/redesign of our home), that there was not any toasting of the grains and nuts prior to the mixing & the baking.

I think I might have come to this, eventually -- the not-toasting -- on my own, if I had any tolerance for playing mad scientist in the kitchen, which I do not.  Or, I might have come to it in a fit of refusing-makework pique (because there is enough to do!).  Not toasting makes perfect sense for turning out the product I sought, though not for one reason I can articulate.

After one hour, it turned out very close to what I had always wanted, and I left it out to cool and rode off to crash my bicycle.

If the recipe were accurate in its estimation of time, my ankle & foot would be whole today.  (I would just fuck it up some other, less-convenient time, surely.) Within 5 minutes after I left, it was pouring down rain, and surely would have taken the car to the farmers' market. If the recipe were accurate in its estimation of time, my son would not have had the challenge of granola put to him.

It is a perfect recipe for a baby-learner in the kitchen, for it is just opening the right bags of ingredients and measuring them out.  The baking part is perfect-novice stuff, too.  Opening and closing the oven to take out the sheets and stir the cereal gives good practice in standing clear and making a habit of arming oneself with oven mitts.  A 250-degree oven is hot enough to burn, but not the worst burn ever, and also is not so furnace-of-hell punishing to stand over and reach into.  If the worst should happen -- he should burn himself, or have carelessness sliding the sheets in and out -- the upset of a tray full of cereal is not the worst cleanup this house has seen. 

Granola, for teaching a 10-year-old to cook.
(adapted ever-so-slightly from the recipe of  Alton Brown)

Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

Combine 3 cups rolled oats, 1 cup slivered almonds, 1 cup cashews, and 3/4 cup shredded, unsweetened coconut with 6 tablespoons evaporated cane juice.

Whisk together 6 tablespoons maple syrup and 1/4 cup coconut oil.

Add oats & nuts to syrup & oil.  Mix and mix.

Pour onto a half sheet pan lined with parchment.  Stir every 20 minutes or so for about an hour, or, as Mari hates to see any recipe read, cook till done. 

Remove from oven; layer in one cup of dried fruit/fruit pieces.  (We like cherries.) 

If you are a grownup person, you can throw in a handful of chocolate chips before pouring on the milk.  Explain nothing.

Comments

[santos.]

i do not make granola because then i would eat it. but it absolutely makes more sense to me to not toast before essentially toasting again.

that bamp-chicka is known 'round these parts as the punchline to a joke: "what are the two dirtiest animals on the farm?"

brown chcken brown cow

[curious]

i had to google evaporated cane juice, sounds delicious

[lala]

Apologies, Ms Strong, I should have written, "granulated sweetener of yr choosing," but am easily mixed-up of late.

Yah, Santos, that is what I am saying! I wanted the kind of granola that one might be wary of making, for the eating of it would be tempting & lamentable. Fortunately, I can't take food from the mouths of my children. OK, except for the Newman's dark chocolate pb cups I don't tell them I buy.