Breakfast

One of the things I learned at the ashram was that I eat way too much sugar for breakfast.

If I’m not making mamey muffins while Crayton is rolling out of bed, I’m dreaming about making them, or flagging down the bicycle-riding pandulce guy. The problem with this — besides calorically speaking — is that I’m usually hungry again a few hours later. And sometimes kind of shaky from the careening dip in my blood sugar.

This issue could be solved by eating more protein-rich breakfasts, but the healthy ones, such as egg whites, don’t taste as good. (I know I sound like a six-year-old, but I don’t care.)

We ate savory breakfasts almost every day at the ashram. I loved all of them, because they were packed with spices, and they made my nose run. Most involved some combination of grains or starches (wheat, rice, noodles) tossed with fried mustard seeds, chile powder, sauteed chilies, ginger and onion. Usually I had two servings and I wasn’t hungry again until lunchtime.

My favorite of all was upma, a spicy porridge of semolina grains, spices and vegetables. To make it, you fry the spices and veggies, toast the grains, and then let the whole thing steam in the veg’s spicy-oily goodness. It’s served with coconut chutney.

In pictures on various food blogs, upma looks very prim, scooped into a little mound. This is not how we ate it at the ashram. Our upma was messy, and scattered around our plate in various lumps and valleys. We’d pick up a piece with our hand, swirl it in some chutney, and pop it in our mouths. The taste lay somewhere between Mexican rice and couscous, but with ginger and mouth-warming heat from the chili powder.

One day, the ashram’s cool chef/philosophy teacher told me that upma can also be made with oatmeal. A little thrill surged through my heart. Semolina isn’t easy to find in Mexico, so that meant that I could make upma when I got home!

A few days ago, I did. I used the the mustard seeds I’d bought in India, one of the items that the overzealous Mexican customs lady didn’t take. Added some dried curry leaves gifted by Alice; tomatoes, because they were plentiful at the local market, and cilantro, because I have two bunches of it in my fridge. Chopped a little onion and some ginger, and half of a serrano chile.

Traditional upma calls for frying a spoonful or two of lentils, but I used peanuts instead, because I had a bunch on hand.

The result was a hearty, spicy bowl of cooked grains, bright from the addition of the tomatoes, and nutty from the fried mustard seeds and the peanuts. Even Crayton liked it. He took a bite and said, “Hmmm…. gingery.”

I served this with a few spoonfuls of sliced bananas, dates and honey. Hey, the point isn’t giving up sugar entirely — it’s knowing that I can still be creative in the mornings without it.

Recipe below.
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The black sapote is a popular tropical fruit in Mexico, and it’s a funny-looking thing when it’s completely ripe. The hard green skin turns soft, dimply, and sunken-in in parts. It looks like a shrunken head, kind of.

After cutting it open, the flesh resembles dark-chocolate brownie batter. It’s glossy and wet and easy to scoop out with a spoon.

I bought a sapote (pronounced “sah-POE-tay” in Spanish; locally they’re known as zapote negro) for the first time last week at the tianguis, figuring I’d think of something fun to do with it. It supposedly makes a great tart filling, jazzed up with a little lime juice. But I nixed that idea, since we were leaving for Tulum in a few days.

Then I remembered a granola recipe I’d seen on David Lebovitz’s site not too long ago. The recipe called for mixing the oats with an apple or pear puree. Why not substitute sapote? I’d tasted some at Alice’s house, and it had a mild, lightly sweet flavor. And we could eat our granola on the beach.

So I put my little dimply sapote on a plate, and took a picture of it, because it was so round and cute.

And then I cut it open and scooped out the flesh. Didn’t I tell you it looks like brownie batter? Or pudding? Its other name is the “chocolate pudding fruit.” The sapote is in the persimmon family, by the way.

I pureed the flesh with a spoon — with entailed about five seconds of stirring on my part — and then mixed that with a bit of oil and agave honey. (Agave honey isn’t as sweet regular honey, and I wanted to err on the side of caution.) Added pumpkin seeds, sliced almonds, oats, cinnamon and a few other spices. Also discovered a forgotten bag of sucanat in the back of my pantry, so I used that instead of regular sugar, since I was being experimental and all. (Sucanat is a pebbly, unrefined cane sugar, with more of a molasses-y taste than regular brown sugar.)

Spread it all onto a baking sheet and just about died while it cooked. The house filled with this warm, spicy-sweet smell of toasted oats and cinnamon. Desperately wanted to Twitter: “I cannot wait to try my black sapote puree granola!” but then I thought that’d be lame, so I kept my giddiness to myself. (Actually, I think I emailed Alice, because she was the one who told me she loved black sapote in the first place.)

After it cooled, it tasted just as fabulous as I’d hoped: slightly sweet, nutty, crunchy. The spices and the sapote mixed together beautifully — nothing overpowered anything else, while at the same time, it all seemed like it was somehow meant to go together. Crayton tried a handful after I made him and then went back for seconds, and thirds.

I’d like to say I’m open-minded and that I’d try this granola with another type of fruit puree, but right now I’m so in love that I can’t. What if another fruit transforms my granola into a sickly sweet mess? Right now, it’s black sapote for me or bust.

Granola with pumpkin seeds, almonds and black zapote puree
Adapted from David Lebovitz’s Top Granola post
Makes about 5 cups

Ingredients

1 medium black zapote, equal to 1/4 c. plus 2 tablespoons black zapote puree
2 1/2 c. oats
1/2 c. pepitas, unsalted
1/4 c. sucanat, or sweetener of your choice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 c. honey
1 tablespoon vegetable oil

Preheat the oven to 175C or 300F. Cut open your zapote, scoop out the flesh into a bowl, and puree lightly with a spoon. (It should have a lumpy-pudding like consistency.) Set aside. In another bowl, whisk together oats, pepitas, sucanat, cinnamon, ground ginger and sea salt, until well combined.

In a small saucepan, gently warm the puree, honey and oil together. Add the warm puree sauce to the oat mixture, and mix well. Spread on an ungreased baking sheet and cook for 50 minutes or until deep golden brown, stirring every 10 minutes to ensure even browning. Cool on a rack. When it’s completely cooled, store in an airtight container. Resist the urge to stuff handfuls in your mouth.