Dessert Granola and Dr. Google's Health Emporium
Let's get crunchy
How is she, though?
Is granola doing okay? I feel like we haven’t heard from her in a while. I guess experimenting with hemp really does send you down a dark path.
As a person in their 30s, I have borne witness to the long and ignominious arc of granola. It began as a parody food, emblematically crunchy in every sense, consumed only by people who dodged the draft or whatever. Then it enjoyed a sort of renaissance among the Peloton set (an anachronism, but you understand), evidenced by a truly astronomical price point, inclusion of “ancient grains,” and myriad gluten-free options. There was then something of a collective revolt against carbohydrates, which felt very Atkins but apparently was Paleolithic, that dealt a critical blow to granola and her oats. Now we’ve calmed down somewhat, and granola just feels like a benched player.
Truth be told, though I am regularly accused of being a vegetarian and by extension a granola consumer, I’m not really a fan. If I’m going to eat cereal, I’ll eat Captain Crunch out of a coffee mug, thank you very much. But my preferences aside, I think we can graft some general observations about the wellness industry’s outsized influence and fickle favor onto the rise, fall, and fade of granola.
Here’s the thing, sweaty [sic]
In a country where consistent and affordable healthcare is inaccessible, non-medical experts enjoy a wild, wild west ethos. Let’s imagine your gallbladder is acting up. You’re underinsured and don’t want to pay out the ass for an ultrasound, even if you could get a far-from-guaranteed referral. You don’t quite feel sick enough to warrant the ER, so what would any sane adult do? Visit Dr. Google.
Maybe you read some glowing testimonials about celery juice for gallstones on a site moderated by someone who apparently has a medical degree. In the absence of actual qualified advice, this feels like a safe option. And for most, it probably is safe. Its efficacy, however, is far less probable. This narrative plays out with any number of interventions, fueled by people who are sick and underserved.
A breakdown, of sorts
This milieu is clumsily articulated below.
When presented with:
An actual malady
A perceived bodily deficit, or
A maximalist impulse toward health optimization
While concurrently:
In a vacuum of access to legitimate medical advice (including ancestral/familial or indigenous ways of wellness)
Living under unregulated, free-market capitalism
Subject to the various culturally-constructed norms of health and sexual economy
One consequence is the fetishization of highly specific products intended to bring about a specific cure, resolution, or optimization. This has the further effect of delaying adequate medical attention when necessary, inflating prices and making culturally-specific foods and products inaccessible to those who have historically relied on them, and has potential long-term impacts on the economy and agricultural biodiversity of places of origin as the product’s demand shock fades or other, far-flung producers fight for a slice of the proverbial pie.
#sponcon
We could surely yell at the influencers shelling out what is essentially unqualified medical advice in the form of sponcon, suppliers price gouging goji berries, and health blogger hacks selling fake panaceas. And probably we should. But even more deserving targets are our profoundly broken healthcare system, the politicians, policymakers, and lobbyists who fail on a daily basis to improve it, and our mortally-dangerous individualism that disincentives collective wellbeing.
Let me be the first to say that I have no idea how to solve these problems. I also don’t expect their timely resolution. But what might help in the interim are communities of care. In the spirit of mutual aid, medical knowledge and care might benefit from a community-driven effort toward re-distribution. There are many ways this could look and many current and historical models of this concept around the country. I’m curious as to how this model could be expanded and exploded. Immediate concerns arise for the divides around class that separate physicians from their immediate communities as well as ensuring just and equitable access to care and resources, to name just two among many. But dialogue and investment around communities of care could yield a great benefit to that majority of people who are underserved by their healthcare system and cultures of wellness.
In the meantime I suggest we dispel, for a moment, granola’s superfood mantle and revel in its confectionary potential. In so doing, may we enact the kind of compassionate realism that will help us to care for ourselves and one another, and take pleasure where and when we can.
Cardamom-Rose Dessert Granola
In this recipe, I present a humble template with an avenue or two for embellishment. For instance, I’ll never insist that you buy goji berries (most recently priced at my local grocer for $23.99/lb) when you can enjoy that jewel of the bog, the delicious and eminently affordable dried cranberry. But you can use goji if you prefer. Or dried mango, or golden raisins, or whatever you like.
As an herbalist, I commonly have dried rose buds hanging around and so elected to scent the sugar syrup I use with them. You needn’t do this, but it does make a lovely granola, and the leftover syrup can be used to sweeten and floralize your drinks and other desserts. If you prefer not to use rose, add a teaspoon of vanilla extract to your syrup before combining with the oat mixture.
If you do choose to follow the recipe exactly, I can promise a delicately-scented and shatteringly crisp yet toothsome dessert granola that works equally well doused in milk and sprinkled atop ice cream.
Ingredients
2 cups rolled oats
1/2 cup slivered almonds
3/4 cup pistachios, shelled and preferably raw
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 cup neutral oil (I used sunflower, but canola and the like are great, too)
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup sugar syrup:
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup water
1/3 cup rose buds (optional)
4 cardamom pods (optional)
1/2 cup dried, sweetened cranberries (or any dried fruit you prefer)
Directions
Preheat your oven to 325º and line an 11x17” baking sheet with parchment paper.
First, make the sugar syrup by dissolving the sugar and water together in a small saucepan under medium heat. Add the rose buds and cardamom pods once the sugar dissolves and cook until it just hints at a simmer, then immediately remove from the heat source. The cooled syrup will keep in the refrigerator for a few weeks and is excellent with sparkling water and, if you imbibe, any number of alcoholic substrates.
Combine the oats, nuts, and salt in a large bowl and toss to combine. In a liquid measuring cup, first portion out your oil, then measure out the honey and sugar syrup. The oil will slick the cup and make pouring the measured liquids onto your oat mixture relatively mess-free (no innuendos necessary, we know why we’re here). Stir well to combine.
Spread onto the lined baking sheet in an even layer and place in the center rack of your oven. To achieve a very crisp and brittle-like consistency, don’t agitate your granola by mixing it during the baking process. Do, however, rotate the baking sheet (as the back of the oven tends to be hotter) at least once during the baking time. In my quasi-reliable oven, I achieved a deep golden brown granola in about 35 minutes. Check yours every 10 minutes or so, rotating the sheet once the oats are a couple shades darker than when they entered. When you take the granola out, sprinkle the dried fruit atop it and allow to cool to room temperature.
After cooling, break the granola into shards of varying sizes and store in an airtight container. It will keep for a week in prime condition. Mine did not last longer than that, but I would project a shelf life of at least two weeks stored this way.
Postscript
We’re back on schedule following last week’s detour/bonus content. Please continue to share, give feedback, and cook along with me. Thanks for reading <3