Homemade granola

Granola. It's good for you, although quite high in fat (mostly good fat, some bad, depending...). I buy it. It sits around because, let's face it, it's unremarkable. I throw it away. I buy a different kind. Oh yes oh yes, with hemp and flax this time. THIS granola will transform my breakfast. Or not. There's always toast.

It never dawned on me to make granola. Some time during my winter hunkering though I spotted a recipe in the beautiful cookbook, La Tartine Gourmande. At first I thought it would be cheating to make a granola recipe as part of my cookbook challenge. I mean, this book has Jerusalem artichoke soup with sauteed scallops and truffle oil and Eggplant, lamb and winter squash crumble, and Coriander-flavored carrot and zucchini tartlets, But then I woke up and remembered the whole point is to learn new staples. What's more staple than granola?

Making this was easy (although, disclaimer, I didn't grow my own oats). What I like most is that you can use all the best ingredients you can find. You can add the dregs of every last bag of nuts and dried fruit you own. You can avoid palm oil. You can adjust the sugar. Have a craving for dried mango, chili flakes, and coconut? Add that shit. Sesame and banana? Failure is not an option.

Although making homemade granola doesn't save you time, it does save on air freshener costs. And it's got to be cheaper than granola of comparable quality. I encourage you to try it - especially if you've have a box sitting in your cabinet since 2011.

My eco sin

Sometime in the 90's when recycling became a household thing, one of the teen magazines I read (was it Sassy?) would often ask celebrities what their "eco sin" was. I take a bath every day. I don't eat leftovers. I crank up the air conditioning. I own a fucking golf course. You'd learn all kinds of things. Water, plastic, and electricity were the cardinal sins. Years later we'd be placing much greater blame on gas guzzling SUVs (almost never utilized for sport). And several years after that the masses learned about global warming.

Apparently it's hard to forget some magazine copy because 20 years later, every time I open this one drawer in my apartment, I mentally whisper to myself, I should really reduce my eco sin.

Behold:

Step one would be to buy Silpats. Baggies and most plastic can be replaced by simply buying (and storing and washing, ugh) more lidded Pyrex containers. Aluminum foil *which is not made from tin so stop calling it that* is so useful I can't imagine its replacement. It can be reused though, time and time again. Like during the Great Depression.

Step two - learn more about the frugal measures taken during the Great Depression.

Guilt tripping

Some person with my name and social security number took college courses while still in high school. Not like, college courses at the high school. Not courses online (that wasn't happening then). Not instead of high school. This lunatic drove far away, twice a week, to attend a 3 hour college night course. Two classes per semester. Fifteen years later when I pass the highway exit to that college a few times a year I just shake my head and think, Who was that?

A week of a college course in one night is no joke. In the middle there was always a short break to stretch our legs and use the restroom. Two of the classes were in a building with a coffee kiosk, which brings me to the point. My two dollar and ten cent mocha.

This was the 90's. Words like "cappuccino" and "latte" had only recently entered my lexicon. Fancy coffee drinks were not in my budget back then. Drive thru Starbucks DID NOT EXIST. Sometimes I feel honored to be among the last generation to remember a time without the internet and without this coffee culture. In 50 years they will call us a "dying breed". But I digress.

Somehow I mustered the courage to order a mocha from the kiosk one day. It pained me to hand over $2.10. PAINED me. That was hard earned money! I rationalized I could afford to tip every other time, but not every time because WHOA. I was embarrassed as well. Who was I to order such extravagances? My parents didn't know I was buying this. They'd be ashamed, I thought. We didn't throw money away like that. I thought of them with every purchase, and then vibrated through the rest of my class and drove home safely in my Tempo. 

Looking back I was always worried about money. When I was nine I fretted we couldn't afford our trip to Disney World. I asked my parents if we could afford it and I remember their don't worry about it response. Surely you don't camp outside of Disney World if you could afford it.

Things are so different now. I'm no longer living on tip money. I prefer lattes to mochas. I drive a Corolla. But most different of all is my ability to spend money without (so much) guilt. I don't miss the guilt, but I do yearn for more frugality. What would that mean? Well for starters I should use my travel mug.

Did you find everything you were looking for today?

No, I didn't. You don't even sell sesame seeds here. I think maybe you used to. Doesn't matter. Please DO NOT call over the shift manager. I know what he'll say. But maybe ask that slouch behind you to go look in the back for organic bananas. Snap snap. You're out of organic bananas in the front. Did you really want me to tell you that? I feel bad for the people in this line now. These unlucky bastards are standing behind an honest woman. Do you really want to hear you sell no decent pepperoni. Do you?

...

No, I didn't. Your anchovy selection kinda sucks. If I can't buy an eight dollar jar of good anchovies here, then where the hell am I supposed to go in Illinois? This isn't your problem, really. It's my problem. But since you asked, you're out of the sourdough rounds you have advertised as being on sale. So that was a bust. Not that they are very sour anyway. Ever. And I also couldn't find pet grass today. You've been out for a while now. No no no please don't ask him about the shipment. It's really alright.

But instead:

I lie straight through my fucking teeth.