Finding Comfort
in granola, three ways
Tuesday:
My audiobook is echoing through the kitchen. It’s a murder mystery,1 my personal choice for a comfort listen on American election day. I am thinking of my 84 year-old American cousin who has flown from her home in England to be with her sisters in the US. She says they’ll need each other for support if things go awry. I am nervous for her, nervous for women, nervous for everyone. I open the door of the tall wooden cupboard at the back of the kitchen and reach for a mixing bowl. A bag of puffed rice is on the counter, along with sunflower seeds, cinnamon, ginger and my new pepper grinder. I am making Camille Becerra’s granola from her book Bright Cooking.2 Becerra’s food is colourful, health giving, and always pushes me in new directions. This recipe, for example, has a kick of black pepper and is sweetened by using a sponge toffee technique - honey and a touch of corn syrup are boiled until they reach 250F. Then baking soda is added, erupting the mixture in the most satisfying way. The final effect is a candy-coated, lacquered granola. It’s a decadent, flavourful and textured way to start the day, especially when topped with yogurt, a handful of berries, and a colourful fruit powder, if you have it.3
What I don’t know is that my husband has come home and is hiding behind the other end of the kitchen island. I am an easy target. I grew up with an older sister who relished scaring me. Her favourite strategies were putting her hand over mine when I reached for the light switch in the dark, or hiding under the bed so she could grab my ankles when I hopped in. Or that time she stood outside the bathroom in a cloak, moaning in the darkness as I emerged. I opened the door, screamed, closed the door, opened it and screamed again.
Between the audio book, the clanging of the metal mixing bowls and the busy buzz from the tinnitus in my left ear, I didn’t hear James come in. I turn around, he pops up, I drop the metal bowl with a bang, and scream. He is thrilled; it’s been ages since he’s scared me. But now that scared feeling has filled my chest, the feeling of panic, of anxiety. Just the feeling I was trying to get rid of. I stomp my feet, laugh-cry, and make the sponge toffee for the granola. It helps a little.
Wednesday:
The feeling hasn’t lifted. I rinse several leaves of swiss chard under cold water then stop to take their picture. The ruby spines are shiny and lined like Twizzlers’ red licorice and I love how the red veins wind through the thick dark green leaves with tips that buckle and curl. I want to retain the vibrancy of these leaves which means eating them raw. So I cut them into thick ribbons, put them in a big bowl and drizzle a little olive oil over top. I sink my hands into the leaves and massage them as I would kale until they are coated and soft. I add a cup or so of cooked farro to the bowl, pickled red onions for colour and crunch, and dance some lacquered granola over top. If candied nuts are served in salads, why not candied granola? I sit in the window and eat it for lunch, straight from the salad bowl.
Thursday:
The feeling is shifting from fear to curiosity. I realize what a bubble I’ve been living in, how limited my perspective is, how the algorithm is serving me up exactly what I want to consume. I understand the need to break out, to have different conversations, in real life conversations, the kind the algorithm struggles to track.
I heat oil and a little butter in a pan and add pancake batter. In another pan I sauté chopped apple with cinnamon, ginger and a grating of tonka bean. It’s the first time I’ve opened the container, another special purchase from Eshun at Flavourfull. The grated bean smells like a warm almond croissant. I top the pancake with the softened apples, a spoonful of hemp hearts for protein, and a sprinkling of the granola. It feels right.
My friend arrives and we eat pancakes together. We talk about home, art, relationships and being scared. I make her an egg with cheese on top. She too needs more protein. We put our phones away. We have a conversation.
Richard Osman’s latest - We Solve Murders. Thank you
for telling me that I can listen to audiobooks via my Spotify. JOY!Try Flavourfull ❤️
Way too much anxiety these days. But every blog I’ve read today has handled it by bringing the focus close to home. We need to be so thankful for where we are - the kitchen, the wonderful fresh produce, the colours and scents and tastes. The friends. (But oh my goodness why do men feel so proud of themselves when they scare someone!?!)
Sending heaps of hugs and best wishes. Take care my dear.
My husband didn't scare me this week. He reached out, cradling my limp puzzled hand as tears plunged across my face into the large cup of tea on the table. While here in the UK, we feel the reverberations and the fear on the wind. With US based family and grandkids it's perhaps a little nuanced and rawer.
You're right we have to step outside the echo chambers and have proper conversations. In the meantime needing a change from the usual "carrot cake " yoghurt made diligently each morning perhaps a little homemade granola in solidarity is the best idea. Cruching together in shared community.