Granola and Guinness

“Grub first, then ethics” - Bertolt Brecht

I am not sure that homemade granola counts as a legitimate Grub & Grist endeavor.  It seems too simple and painless. Too much idleness, not enough sweat. But in the spirit of avoiding puritanism, with its nauseating zeal for hard work, I decided that granola must be included. Plus, there is no better way to spend a sharp fall afternoon than curled with your back to the oven, a book in hand and a batch of nutty granola turning golden as you read.

Returning to the student life, I’ve been flexing my muscles once again in the art of procrastination.  All it took this morning was one look at the furrowed visage of of Max Weber, wobbling atop a mountain of reading, to send me scuttling into the security of the kitchen. I brewed a pot of coffee, wrestled with my conscience, and came to a compromise. I would battle on with The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, but only on the condition that I would be allowed to make granola at the same time. Comforted by this bargain, I switched on the oven, mixed up a batch, and settled into a comfortable rhythm of reading, stirring, and reading some more. Probably not the most studious approach to studying the classical social theorists but I found it tremendously comforting nonetheless.

The following is a recipe for my all time favorite granola. It is adapted from Marty and Peggy’s original creation for their Smilin Dog Cafe, a heavenly establishment that is forever in my heart.

Ingredients:
5 cups oats
1 cup sliced almonds
1 cup sunflower seeds
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup dried blueberries or raisins
1/2 cup flax seeds
1/2 cup boiling water
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup real maple syrup
2/3 cup canola oil
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Method: Set the oven to 325F/160C. Mix together the first six ingredients in a large bowl. Then, in a smaller bowl, mix together the remaining ingredients and add them to the large bowl, stirring well. Spread the mixture out onto a couple roasting pans and bake for 20 minutes. Stir and bake for another 15 minutes. Stir again and bake for 10 minutes. Repeat at five minute intervals until the granola glows a golden brown and has a nice crisp, crunchy look. Remember to check the mixture often as it browns to avoid burning.

Hours later, as the granola lay cooling on the kitchen table, I was still sitting wrestling with The Prostestant Ethic, feeling increasingly irritated by its whole ethos. Why did those damn puritans have to ruin everybody’s fun, eh? I shook my head. Just a case of cabin fever, I decided, snatching up the book and heading for the door. I was going to read at the pub.

In Seattle I used to do homework in cafes. Everyone did.  Duck into any Seattle coffee house today and you’re bound to find at least a handful students huddled in the corner peering over textbooks and laptops. In stereotypical Seattle style, I’d quickly settled on a cafe, two blocks from my house, and proceeded to spend hours each day reading and writing, often procrastinating over a blueberry muffin and third cup of coffee.  In London however, I had not managed to find a satisfactory cafe to fit the purpose: quiet, cozy, and within easy walking distance of my flat.  Then I gradually realized that people here often work not in cafes but in pubs.

Well, you know what they say; when in Rome . . .

The Colton Arms,  just a few yards from my front door,  turned out to be ideal for my purpose. I walked into the warm front room, all dark wood and gleaming brass. It was deserted save for a barman and an old dude with a dog. The former was very friendly, handing me a well-poured half of Guinness and chatting amiably. To be honest, I had been slightly intimidated by the prospect of sitting alone reading in a pub, but here it felt like to most natural thing in the world. I found corner, took a sip off the silken, creamy top, and settled back into my book. I don’t know whether it was the lull of voices or aged warmth of the room, but I found it far easier to focus there and spent a happy hour finishing off the protestants. With or without their approval.