persimmon granola
Welcome back to the kitchen. This is pinkbelly, primed and ready for a new year full of mindless self-indulgence. Today, we're going to roast some oats.
After getting back for the new year and being lost in the whirlwind of trying to pick up the pieces of my abandoned life for a few days, I took a walk down to the persimmon tree, my favorite place to hang out around town. When I first moved to TO, I didn't get out very much. I spent a lot of time working and really only went on jogs outside when the sun was down; I met the tree for the first time this past year, in the fall, while it was in full bloom. I had literally never seen it naked, without one million orange bulbs obscuring every bough, which is probably why I've felt so comfortable stealing liberally from it in the past. What I stumbled upon on this particular day rocked me to my very core.
one and a half cups of oats, tossed in cinnamon
four persimmons
four packets of smucker's™ brand peanut butter
one half of a cup of coconut oil
one quarter of a cup of brown sugar
two teaspoons of vanilla
one pinch of salt
Sure, it's not the most ground-breaking granola recipe, but I'm not one to try to toss a bunch of glitter on top of something that's already excellent. Its simplicity only adds to its timeless appeal.
Shocking. This is the fabled persimmon tree, just as foretold in the prophecies of olde. Before leaving for December, it was loaded down with fruit; you could barely see the leaves, that's how abundantly productive this thing is when it's in season. Now, I see the bare branches and can't help but pause before swiping. Most of the fruit up there had already exploded in decay. They never got a chance to be something.
Once you've done the necessary dirty work, start harvesting peanut butter from the little plastic cups. Apparently, this is what an actual tablespoon of peanut butter looks like. It's somehow both less and much, much more than what I was expecting.
After your persimmons have been sliced into thin wedges, microwave the coconut oil, peanut butter, sugar, salt, and vanilla until it becomes one hot, sloppy mess. Enrobe both the fruit and oats. Get your spatula in there, taking care to avoid bruising the persimmons. Spread it all out over some parchment paper and stick it in the oven for twenty-three minutes at 325°; if you want clumps, pack it together while getting it out onto the tray. After this first round of baking, take the tray out and break everything up. Put it back in for fourteen minutes, repeating once or twice more or until brown to your liking, which I can only assume is much different than my liking.
Crispy, as per usual. Keep a close eye on things as you get down to the wire. No regrets here.
Oh, fuck yeah. This, in my opinion, is the best way to start the day. I ended up using all of my oats to make the granola, though, which definitely complicated final presentation. This bowl of gruel is comprised mostly of a pre-mixed packet of Quaker maple instant oatmeal that I almost forgot I had, over three thousand miles away from where I stole it in Florida. It's come a long way to be here with us today.
Alright, first official blog entry of 2018, done. That wasn't so bad. Still not entirely sold on the new lights and gif format, but if I can't adjust, I will assume it's a sign from god telling me I was never meant to be a real photographer. It's tough love, but I accept these terms.
