I need you to trust me on something right now.
I need you to trust me that the chocolate coconut peanut butter raisin granola bars you’re looking at right now are phenomenally magnificent.
That they’re silky, dense, melt-in-the-mouth, crispy, crunchy, sweet, fudge-like, moreish, filling and, all in all, really good.
That the coconut and oats hide the squidgy texture of raisins (you know how I feel about squelchy-popping-brain-like raisins), and that the unsweetened chocolate and peanut butter lend richness without cloying sweetness.
Why am I asking you to trust me on this?
Because the extent of the recipe that I have for these granola bars is the following note on my phone: “3/4 cup coconut 1 cup raisins 2/3 cup unsweetened chocolate melt this into original pb”.
“Original pb” is clearly shorthand for another recipe that, at the time, I thought I wouldn’t forget.
Well, folks, I forgot.
I do remember that there was also honey and vegan butter involved in this recipe. Rolled oats and vanilla extract, too.
And I remember that the resulting chocolate coconut peanut butter granola bars were phenomenally magnificent, and that the people I shared them with made wide-eyes at me from their first bites. But I can’t remember how I made them.
But that’s the thing about life, isn’t it? Sometimes you can’t remember everything.
Sometimes as much as you want to remember in diamond-sharp detail all the best things in life — that look on his face, or the sound of her laugh, or the way you felt when everything for a moment was as certain as the smell of fresh earth after a thunderstorm — sometimes, instead, you end up recalling with agonising clarity all the things you’d rather not — that stupid thing you said, or the time you were helpless to fix your friend’s hurt, or the suffocating panic in your throat when you had no idea which way to turn.
So, for now, trust me and remember this:
Even half-remembered magic is still magic.
Particularly when it tastes this good.