Breakfast karma

Granola scares me. Those little brown nubs seem to suggest that the long trudge, macrame session or drum circle is imminent.

Indeed, those clumps and wisps huddled in their twist-tie baggie share the same worldview as the trudge, knot or drum-induced headache: "Good for you." Though not good.


There was a time when adults were constantly heaping granola into bowls and smiling: "Try some!" A time best summarized as the 1970s. In those days granola was heavy with safflower oil and soy nuts. Chewing through a handful was a strenuous job, one best summarized by, "Don't we have any M&Ms?"

By the 1980s granola went glam, cozying up with the marshmallow, the chocolate chip and the airy unidentifiable nugget. Granola squared off into the bar, striking a Rice Krispies-treat pose. Somehow it maintained its reputation as wholesome, if wholly unappealing.

After that I lost track. Granola still cluttered the cereal aisle, the PowerBar wall, the cookie bin. When my youngest called it "gorilla," I gave the snack an amused smirk. Otherwise, I stuck with the cold shoulder.

So recently, when my friend Vanina served a beautiful bowl of fruit and ice cream graced with homemade granola, I thought, "OK, a speck."

Vanina's granola wasn't oily or heavy or chewy, it wasn't pocked with soy nuts, or gummed up with marshmallow. It was golden, crunchy and absolutely delicious. I pleaded for the recipe and toasted up a batch of the sweet, buttery oat-and-nut mix. I started carrying it around, pressing it on children, smiling: "Try some!"

I think there's a saying about this sort of behavior. Something like "What goes around comes around." Only better.

Good granola

Prep: 15 minutes
Bake: 30 minutes
Makes: About 7 cups

Ingredients:
4 1/2 cups quick-cook rolled oats
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup shelled pumpkin seeds
1 tablespoon coarse salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter