Fat Friday...

If any of you bake, you'll most probably have come across that feeling of sheer satisfaction when you bring something out of the oven. It's perfectly golden, smells divine, and you can't wait to share it with everyone, tentative but confident in the fact that man it tastes good.

And sometimes? Sometimes it just doesn't work like that.

This week I made granola. Sweet, nutty granola that looked delicious, smelt divine and tasted....well...like flapjack. It was confused granola. Granola in the midst of an identity crisis, and one not getting very much support from myself who, upon tasting it simply considered it momentarily and walked away.

That's an important phrase right there. I walked. Away. No picking at the tray, no leaving a good portion behind to sneak into my big mouth later, nope. It was the definition of indifference.

As much as I'd love to forget about the whole granola debacle [I think granola-gate has quite the ring to it], my family actually enjoyed it. To put it lightly. They enjoyed it to the extent of panicking when they didn't know where I'd stored it. The look of terror on my dad's face at the prospect that it wasn't to be found was just beautiful. And it's that expression, that look of "where-is-my-granola-I-want-it-now" that's persuaded me to post it anyway.

Thanks dad.

INGREDIENTS

 

Line a large baking tray with greaseproof paper and preheat the oven to 325°F // 160°C // GM 3.

Mix together the oats, almonds [whole and slivered], coconut, cinnamon and salt.

In a saucepan, gently heat the butter, oil, honey and brown sugar until melted and dissolved. Continue heating until it comes to the boil, mix thoroughly and add the vanilla.

Pour this liquid mixture over the dry ingredients and mix in well.

Spread the mixture onto the pre-lined tray and pop into the oven for a good half an hour.  Be sure to stir a couple of times during cooking to break up the oats and prevent bringing out a tray of solid oats [i.e. flapjack. oh the irony].

Mine took a little longer to crisp up, but this is all dependent on how crunchy you want your granola. Flapjack. Whatever.

Ok. Now I'm just being mean. Because actually, it's not half bad at all. And ok, it's not really to my taste, but look at it in all of it's golden deliciousness

Mmmmm, oaty. Go ahead, make a batch. If not for me then for this innocent, golden granola. It may indeed be having an identity crisis, but it needs a loving home. 

And perhaps a psychotherapist.