1 tbsp cannabinoid herbs
(I prefer sativa to indica)
1 rolling paper
1 cup organic steel-cut oats
¼ cup organic coconut oil
3/4 cup organic cacao nibs
½ cup organic chia seeds
½ cup organic honey
Optional: nuts, coconut shavings, and your out-of-town roommate’s
fancy coarse sea salt to taste
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
For a mind-stimulating baking experience, go with a sativa when selecting your herbs. Indica, like purple kush, will give more of a body high, and might make you too sleepy to continue. A sativa will have a stimulating effect and is ideal for creative activity. The Heisenberg strain is my personal favorite.
Place your herbs in a grinder. Twist to the right about 10 times in order to filter out any stems or seeds. Alternatively, break the herbs apart by hand, rubbing gently between first finger and thumb to a coarse powder. (I like to imagine this releases some of the aroma within.)
Roll, lick, and stick. Smooth the joint with your fingers, gently, making sure there aren’t any openings or holes. Gently dampen it with your tongue.
Ignite. If you have guests, be sure to pass to the left.
You may choose to use butter, but for a healthier option, go with a generous helping of organic coconut oil for which you overpaid because the label on its glass jar looks designer.
The cacao nibs are essential. They add a wine-like bittersweetness to the granola, reminiscent of the Mast Brothers Chocolate Granola recipe from that heavy cookbook you see everywhere but can’t justify dropping mad change on.
Chia seeds should ideally be whole and black, like poppy seeds, in order to add their delightful crunch. Bonus points if you find the brand whose bag reads “Chi-Chi-Chi-Chia!” to guarantee that the Chia Pet television commercial jingle from your childhood loops in your head for the rest of the evening.
Try different flavors of honey as you please; just make sure to double-check the label to ensure it’s local because #SaveTheBees and so what if the bear-shaped bottles are cheaper?
Put all the things into a bowl and stir. The order doesn’t matter, unless you’ve smoked the Heisenberg, in which case the true art of baking may be revealed to you by divine providence. Follow it.
Spread the sticky amalgamation onto a greased baking sheet.
Set a timer for twenty minutes while placing in the oven—
Remember that you meant to take a mason jar from the cupboard for air-tight storage. Fumble through your cupboards. Consider the intensive process of canning. Google ‘botulism.’ Fall down a Wikipedia rabbithole.
—Otherwise you will forget all about your granola while you sink into the sofa cushions listening to the Invisibilia podcast, the episode on quantum entanglement and mirror-touch synesthesia, and it will burn.
Fumble with the roach when the burning end crawls too close to your fingertips.
Once the granola has cooled, it may be stuck to the baking sheet.
Stab the sheet of honey-glued bits with a fork and a spatula until it breaks into smaller parts.
Allow yourself to become entranced by the task.
Focus on this task for a long enough time that you start to feel embarrassed.
Enjoy the ironic satisfaction of modifying antiquated social norms in this mélange of domesticity and taboo.
Ponder the decisions you have made in your life. Stand at the stove and consume the granola with the stabbing fork.
In case of dry mouth, several glasses of water may be necessary. The sticky clusters may refuse to go down your throat, fibrous particles and glue-like honey clinging to your gums, a mélange of flavors coating the inside of your mouth to the point of sensory overload. This is normal. This is what we want. Surrender to the chaos of your microbiota.