A week ago, in an attempt to manifest something positive through the darkest period of my life, I invited anyone and everyone to bake a batch of granola and send it to a stranger. I never imagined over 300 people would sign up to bake and to receive, but I’m going to take the response as proof that I’m not the only one who takes solace in random acts of kindness (especially when they give me an excuse to lose myself in the kitchen). Years ago, I started Salad for President with the hypothesis that everyone has a salad to share. “Make a salad” is a quotidien imperative, but it’s also a red herring, a simple act that proved to elicit memories, personality, and a singular perspective from seasoned chefs, artists, and neighbors alike.
Even in its most elemental form, granola requires more ingredients and time than a minimalist salad (tomatoes with olive oil and salt, a salad do-make), but it seems this weekly practice inspires a similar passion from you, my kind of people. Granola is the jazz of the breakfast vertical, a fortuitous jumble of surprises that harmonize differently every time. It’s substantial enough to sustain you all day, in a bowl for breakfast, or in your hand as a late night snack. It’s an indulgence with purpose, a valuable gift, and proof that some things should always be homemade.
By now, all our participants have been matched with a granola buddy and a victim of the Los Angeles fires. Thank you for offering to bring send light their way As I report live on your baking and gifting, I will be sharing recipes from some of my favorite participating content creators here, from cookbook author Colu Henry to brilliant writer and author, Tamar Adler. If your granola was getting tired, you’re about to receive more inspiration than you need.
Huge thanks to my assistant, Julie Heine, for her hard work putting this together.
Granola Profile: Chef Camille Becerra
When I close my eyes and conjure an image of Chef Camille Becerra, I see her cooking a meal with an electric color palette, smiling from behind a daring hat, wearing an outfit too good to stain. Camille has ushered many a restaurant into the zeitgeist with her uncanny ability to make food that is distinctly of the moment, but too personal to be trendy. The fabric of the universe would unravel should Camille Becerra be caught buying store bought granola, so she was one of the first friends whom I invited into the fold.
For The Great American Granola Exchange, Camille is sharing her recipe for a resourceful, “use-what-you-have” granola that puts the 86 on those lingering last bits of grains, nuts, seeds, and spices you might have squirreled away.
Scrappy Granola by Camille Becerra
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