I have a new granola recipe for you, but before I go any further, a disclaimer:

If you are prone to addictive behaviors in the presence of crunchy sweet nutty seedy deliciousness, click away now. 

I’M SERIOUS. The first time I made it, I ate it three meals in a row.

Now SCAT.

For the rest of you controlled, pious souls, yes, yes, I already have four other granola recipes — this is our standby, this is our fancy splurge, this one and this one have had their day — but this one, I promise, deserves a whole post all its own. 

Because this granola is special on four different accounts:

• It doesn’t have oats
• It contains exotic ingredients for an authentic cooking high
• It’s gluten-free (not that I care, but some of you might)
• It POPS with per-sonality and pi-zzazz. 

In fact, my husband calls it the “Fun Granola.”  

The most tedious part of this recipe is sourcing the unusual ingredients, but once you’ve got everything, it’s a snap to assemble and it bakes up in less than half an hour. 

The end result is a deliciously spiced, light and crunchy granola which is ridiculously fantastic eaten out of hand, like a hybrid cracker-granola bar-cookie.

If eating as a cereal for breakfast (or a bedtime snack — no judgement), I recommend adding copious amounts of dried fruit.

And it’s lovely as an ice cream topper and — oo, oo, oo, if you’re a plain yogurt person, add fistfuls and then drizzle the whole kit-n-kaboodle with honey. 

HOLD UP, FOLKS. I just opened Samin’s book to check the ingredient list and realized that she calls it “cereal”, not granola. This is a cereal granola, not a granola granola, which prolly explains the lack of oats and why it’s so freaking FUN.

Henceforth, this deliciousness will now be known as…

Samin’s Fun CEREAL Granola
Adapted from Samin’s new (and utterly fabulous) cookbook Good Things.

Mahlab is the ground kernel from the inside of the seed of a particular species of cherry — Prunus Mahaleb. They say it tastes a bit like bitter almonds and cherries, and it has floral notes. I think it’s a pleasing flavor — and very mild. I won’t be at all surprised if it soon becomes all the rage.

I use melted homemade lard instead of oil. (Lard, I learned from daughter-in-law, does not impart a flavor in granola.)

A single batch makes about a gallon. Doubling is recommended. And I’m only using weights here — no cup measurements. Get a scale already.

80g puffed rice cereal (or wheat or Kamut)
80g puffed millet
85g pecans, rough-chopped
85g almonds, rough-chopped
50g pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
30g sesame seeds
1 tablespoon ground cardamon
6g salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground mahlab
150g melted lard (or oil)
150g brown sugar
110g honey

Combine the puffed grains, nuts, and sesame seeds in a large mixing bowl. 

Measure the sugar, honey, and oil into a saucepan. Heat over medium heat until melted. Increase the heat and bring to a boil — the oil may separate at the start, but whisk steadily and it will eventually become cohesive. It’s done when there are lots of bubbles on the top — about 5 minutes of cooking total. Add the salt and spices and stir well.

Pour the hot spiced syrup over the grains and quickly stir to coat evenly. Transfer the cereal to a parchment-lined baking sheet.

Bake at 350°F for 10 minutes. Stir well, and then bake another 5-10 minutes. Keep a close eye on it! When the cereal is golden brown and caramely, remove it from the oven. Cool completely and then break the cereal into pieces — keep them large for snacking treats and crumble them smaller for cereal-and-milk consumption. 

Store the cooled cereal granola in an airtight jar on the counter. (Or hidden away out of sight if you find yourself struggling.)

This same time, years previous: unlearning, my kids love motorcycles and this is how I feel about it, jammy crumble cookies, perimenopause: Laura, age 48, introducing how we homeschool: a series, my new kitchen: the refrigerator, the quotidian (11.12.18), unleashing the curls!, enough, for now, George Washington Carver sweet potato soup with peanut butter and ginger.

The other night we had a bunch of neighbors over for doughnuts. 

When living in the country, the definition of “neighbor” stretches to cover several miles. Only one of the people in attendance was an actual bonafide “neighbor.”

But I digress.

We fried up most of the doughnuts ahead of time, timing it so I we were just finishing when people arrived. That way, the doughnut-making was still “A Thing” but the bulk of the work mostly done, freeing us to properly host and have fun instead of working the whole time. 

At the start, people had cluster conversations — small pockets of conversation — but as it grew dark, we all gravitated to the fire. (The kids played a card game on the porch. It involved lots of shrieking.) We didn’t discuss anything profound — stories from the neighborhood, thrifted clothing, marathon training — but then I said, “So here’s something I want to know. How often do y’all wash your sheets?” 

(Writing that just now, I realize how freakishly random that question sounds — and it was. I have no excuse.)

Turns out, most everyone had a set time for washing their bedding — more or less weekly, or maybe every other week — and same with towels. Some people even had actual assigned days for washing bath towels. They just round up all the towels in one fell swoop and wash them. 

I was flabberghasted. Such organization! Such cleanliness! Such on-top-of-their-game-ness!

“What about you?” they asked me. 

“Oh, um. . . whenever they get dirty? There’s no schedule.”

The truth is, we wash our sheets every 2 or 3 weeks on average — and we sometime go even longer — but surrounded by such disciplined, clean company, I tried to sound slightly less squalid. 

I was much more comfortable sharing our towel-washing practices — whenever they start smelling (so every 2-3 weeks?) and each person is responsible for making that call — because, as my younger son pointed out that evening, “If your towels are getting dirty, then you’re not showering properly.”

But then someone asked, “How do you hang your towels?” and the plot thickened. Because if towels are hung on a hook, they don’t dry as well and get funky quicker. Rod-hung towels, on the other hand, dry out better and last longer. (We’re rod-hanging folk.)

And then someone brought up the blog post I wrote a few years back about making the bed and that sparked another round of fierce opinions. (All my neighbors except one are dedicated bed makers, good grief! Such collective domesticity boggles my mind.)

How often do you wash your sheets?

proof we’re not animals

P.S. As I was writing this post, I realized an important variable in this “how often do you wash your sheets” discussion: whether or not people shower before going to bed. Because if people don’t shower before sleeping and climb into bed dirty (oh, the horrors!), then of course the sheets need to be washed frequently.

Clearly, this conversation needs to be revisited. Doughnuts on the patio, anyone?

This same time, years previous: South Africa: examined experience, four meal deliveries: what I learned, wait for it, the quotidian (11.4.19), old-fashioned apple roll-ups, cinnamon pretzels, meatloaf, when your child can’t read, awkward, piano lessons.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

Sun and seeds.

Pre-frost harvest.

Pickled — and wicked hot.

Candy bar or pie? You decide.

Afternoon treat for the fiber optic road crew.

Cheddar still life.

Lego project.

Woodstove season is here!

In the shade of the pickup: birthday lunch.

Hard work looks good on him.

Family potluck.

This same time, years previous: extraction, dulce de leche, chai tea concentrate, a hallowed eve, egg bagels, sour cream coffee cake, apple dumplings, 2015 garden stats and notes, apple farro salad, stuffed peppers.