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homemade granola and the ties that bind

By on December 23, 2013

Eleven years ago I met friends J and K at a playgroup that took place in the basement of a local church. While the children ran around the basement, playing on plastic push cars, building with cardboard bricks and sliding down the small plastic slides, their mothers sat in a circle, drinking coffee and tea, and commiserating on the day-to-day ins and outs of raising our children, and our husbands. I bonded with J over the facts that we were both from another province (Ontario, Canada) and that we both lived in the same city and same neighbourhood, likely at the same time (our 9 year age difference meant that she was in university while I was in high school). I bonded with K over our mutual love of TV and baking.

Over the next year, I met L, the backbone of our playgroup, the kindest, most generous person I have ever met. C joined our playgroup after meeting J at the park. Another Ontario girl, we hit it off immediately.

I should back track and explain a bit of history. I moved to an area south of Montreal called the South Shore in 2002. At the time, Beloved took on a new job, and we moved our family (we only had our little girl person at that time) to the province where Beloved grew up. When we moved, my little person was a year old. Moving away from our home to a province and neighbourhood where French was spoken more than English, I was a little nervous. Although I had embraced motherhood, I had spent a year raising my baby with no other moms and babies in my inner circle. Unfortunately, the couple of moms I had met were less than supportive of choices I had made regarding my baby (read: they gasped and shunned me when they found out I was formula feeding and not breast feeding.) Thankfully, I was surrounded by friends who were yet to have their own children, and frankly didn’t care how I fed my little person.

I was apprehensive joining this playgroup. My friends will laugh when I say that I am very shy, upon first meeting new people. Some of my friends probably wish I was still shy. It certainly would be a lot quieter when I was around!

I was not only shy but worried about being judged, as I had already been judged before.

This little playgroup was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Not only was I not judged, but they really couldn’t have cared less. What mattered most was sharing our experiences on child-rearing, marriage, what recipes we had tried recently, what book had been recently finished and what happened on The Amazing Race. And goodness please don’t let anyone suggest a craft!

To my dismay, it was time to move again. Shortly after my little boy person was born, we relocated to Vermont, and thus began “Girls Weekend”.

For the past nine years I have gotten together with C, J, K, and L, for one weekend. Over the years our group grew by two more, M and N.

Every year we laugh. Every year we eat wonderful food. Every year we drink wine (well they drink wine) and wonderful cocktails by K. Every year someone is teased; maybe the snorer, or the one who reads magazines at bedtime, or the supposed poor direction giver (which for the record was me…and there was nothing wrong with the directions), or the one who put her bikini top on upside down, or the one who thinks she is the ultimate game champion. Every year we spend 48 hours together and remind ourselves how wonderful and precious our friendships are.

And every year it rains. Yup. Each and every year.

I am thankful for the time I get to spend with these wonderful letters, women. Not only do I continue to learn things about them, but they are constantly teaching me about myself. It used to be that we would have to vow to not talk about our children so that we could remember we were more than just mothers and wives. Now with our children 9 years older, we have been able to discover that we can talk about our kids, if we want, but that there is so much more to talk about.

These women have helped to make me a more confident mother , wife, friend and simply me.

 

homemade granola

 

Every year for girls weekend, we divide up the meals. This year I was on breakfast duty. Inspired by another friend who makes the world’s best granola, I’ve been creating my own recipe for homemade granola. After looking through my cookbooks, and a bit online, this is the recipe I came up with. In our house we eat it with plain yogurt. Pour a bit of real maple syrup on the yogurt, and then top with as much granola as you wish.

2 1/2 cups old fashioned oats

1 1/4 cups coconut, thick shred

1 cup (Pkg) sliced almonds

1/2 cup sunflower seeds

1/4 cup sesame seeds

1 1/4 cups chopped pecans

1/3 cup oat bran

1/4 cup quinoa

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 cup pistachios

2/3 cup maple syrup

1/3 cup butter, melted

 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Mix all dry ingredients in a large bowl.

Melt butter and stir into maple syrup.

Pour butter and maple syrup over dry ingredients, tossing until completely coated.

Pour granola onto a cookie sheet and place in oven. It will look quite pale.

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Cook for 40 minutes, tossing every 10 minutes, until the granola is toasted and dry.

Cool and place in an airtight container.

 

Julie of By The Recipe says this about her food writing:

I’m not sure which came first: my sweet tooth, or my desire to bake.  Before I was a wife and a mother, I was a baker.  I love to bake.

Before kids, I wasn’t much of a cook. After kids, my cooking abilities improved, I guess because I needed to feed my family. Over the years I have come to enjoy cooking, almost as much as baking.  But let’s be honest, the best part of baking and cooking are the accolades of a great mouthful of food. That inspires me.

When I cook, I cook by the recipe. Almost always.

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