Great Grains Chewy Breakfast Bars

The watermelon is back. Second generation. The seeds from last year's miracle watermelon, planted in the same sunny corner, given the same daily conversation, and they are GROWING. Three vines. Multiple flowers. At least one fruit setting. The second generation is proving that last year was not a fluke. Last year was a beginning. The watermelon line continues, like the Henderson line, like the recipe line, like every line that matters: by planting the seeds and talking to them and trusting the dirt and waiting.

Michael is seven months old and he crawls. Not well — more of a controlled lunge, like a tiny drunk person trying to cross a room with great intention and limited coordination — but he moves. He moves toward things he wants, which is everything. He moves toward the cat (we don't have a cat; he moves toward where a cat would be if we had one). He moves toward the cast iron skillet, which lives on the stove and which he has been eyeing since he was three months old with the same acquisitive focus that I eye a perfectly ripe tomato. I have moved the skillet to the back burner. The baby will not get the skillet. The skillet has survived ninety years of Henderson kitchens and it will not be defeated by a seven-month-old, no matter how determined.

Saturday mornings continue. Michael comes. We cook. He watches from the high chair now — the real high chair, not the bouncy seat. He sits upright and he eats his sweet potato or his banana or his avocado and he watches me cook and I narrate everything because the narrating is the teaching and the teaching is the legacy. "Michael, this is garlic being minced. When you're older, you'll mince garlic yourself, and the smell will remind you of this kitchen, and this kitchen will remind you of your Granny Dot, and your Granny Dot will remind you that food is love and love is food and garlic goes in everything."

He babbles back. The babbling is not words yet but it's communication — the intent to speak, the desire to participate, the Henderson need to have an opinion about what's happening in the kitchen. He comes by it honestly. This entire family has opinions about kitchens. The opinions start in the high chair and they never stop.

Made shrimp and grits tonight. Saturday morning. Michael watched. He reached for the bowl. I let him taste the grits — a tiny bit on my finger, warm and buttery and smooth. His face did the seven-expression thing. He wanted more. I said, "Soon, baby. Soon. The shrimp and grits are coming. You just have to be a little older. A little bigger. A little more Henderson."

Now go on and feed somebody.

Michael’s shrimp and grits are coming—I promised him that, right there with my finger still warm from the bowl. But while we wait for him to get a little bigger and a little more Henderson, the Saturday mornings need something he can grow into, something I can press into a pan and cut into squares and hand him with both of us knowing the grains are already in his blood. These Great Grains Chewy Breakfast Bars are that bridge: oats and honey and real food, the kind of thing I can make while he watches from that high chair with his opinions and his babbling, so by the time he’s ready for the cast iron, he’ll already know what it means to build something good from the ground up.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min (plus 1 hour cooling) | Servings: 16 bars

Ingredients

2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup wheat germ
1/4 cup ground flaxseed
1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
1/2 cup dried cranberries or raisins
1/4 cup sunflower seeds or pumpkin seeds
1/3 cup honey
1/3 cup brown sugar, lightly packed
1/4 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup natural peanut butter or almond butter
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt

Instructions

Prep your pan. Preheat oven to 325°F. Line an 8x8 or 9x9 inch baking pan with parchment paper, leaving overhang on two sides so you can lift the bars out cleanly.
Toast the grains. Spread the oats, wheat germ, and flaxseed on a rimmed baking sheet. Toast in the preheated oven for 8–10 minutes, stirring once halfway, until lightly golden and fragrant. Transfer to a large mixing bowl.
Add the mix-ins. Stir the chopped nuts, dried fruit, and seeds into the toasted grain mixture. Set aside.
Make the binder. In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the honey, brown sugar, and butter. Stir constantly until the butter melts and the sugar dissolves, about 3–4 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the nut butter, vanilla, cinnamon, and salt until smooth.
Combine. Pour the warm binder over the grain mixture and stir thoroughly until every grain and nut is coated. Work quickly—the mixture stiffens as it cools.
Press and bake. Transfer the mixture to the prepared pan. Using the back of a spatula or a piece of parchment, press firmly and evenly into the pan—the firmer you press, the better the bars hold together. Bake for 20–22 minutes until the edges are golden.
Cool completely. Let the bars cool in the pan on a wire rack for at least 1 hour before lifting out and cutting. Do not rush this step. Cutting warm bars leads to crumble, and nobody wants crumble when they wanted bars.
Cut and store. Lift out using the parchment overhang and cut into 16 bars. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 5 days, or wrap individually and freeze for up to 2 months.

Nutrition (per serving)

Great Grains Chewy Breakfast Bars — For the Saturday Mornings When the Grits Are Still a Little Ways Off