The legend has long stood that an aging hippie relic, the last of his kind, found solace in the arms of a sister of the Poor Clares living alone in a forgotten convent deep in the mountains of Saskatchewan. After teaching each other their dying arts and a long winter of tender lovemaking, the forbidden union produced the world’s first granola.
I am that granola.
No, just kidding. But I think the truth is not far off. (No, I’m not Canadian.) People often ask me (at least I like to think they would if anyone ever talked to me), “David, what’s a Granola?” It’s a serious question, so I would like to take a moment to give it a serious answer.