A note about Saigon cinnamon: when I was growing up in Vietnam, I remember my mother bringing bunches of bark back as gifts. It made no sense to me when America already had jars and jars in every store. What I didn't realize until recently is that Vietnam grows a uniquely powerful type of cinnamon called cassia. Most grocery store cinnamon comes from Ceylon, Mexico, or Indonesia. Cassia has much richer oil content and a hotter, sweeter taste.
Thanks to those of you who keep encouraging us in this effort at mission-based business. We made 130 lbs last night, so now we’re stocked. If you think you know an appropriate market for us, let us know. We now sell 6 ounce “Go-Packs” and we’d be happy to send one as a sample if you’d make an introduction for us. We’re jumping our way through the final few hoops that will allow us to set up shop at local farmer’s markets this summer—so with luck you’ll be meeting some our employees that way soon.
A second employee, Evon Nano, originally from Iraq, recent grad from the Genesis Center Culinary Arts Program, and (here’s the sad part) my right-hand woman in the Providence Granola Project has found a job. She is now working at the CAV, a very trendy, upscale restaurant in the jewelry district. The job is part-time, but 4 days a week. Knowing how hard Evon works, I’m sure they’ll expand her hours.
I decided on unsulphured mission figs. Molasses and a glug of cognac were a given. Poppy seeds practically begged for the chance to impersonate the sweet crunch of fig guts—plus they’re great for you. The darker French roast, hint of salted caramel, and tang of balsamic vinegar followed from tasting our first prototype taste tests. I thought it might be interesting to, just ever so slightly, soften the crunch.
Rhode Island's own Allysen Callery - musician, recording artist, and PGP enthusiast - was inspired to create a little homebrew recording of song she wrote while wating for this month's special recipe to arrive. Check it out: April's Got the Blues. Thanks, Allysen!
And the granola: the apricots are unsulphured, which means they don’t have that drop-dead orange beauty that you know in your heart can’t be real anyway. The blueberries are wild, hand-picked, juice-sweetened—too pricey for our budget, yes, but hey, this time it’s for love. Order up soon, because we’re only making a bit more than we know we need. We’ll be in the kitchen next weekend, so for those of you month-clubbers, yours will arrive mid-month.
