Because you're just too in-touch with nature to sully your primitive freegan-furnished hovel with "store-bought" granola, packaged in petroleum ripped from Mother Earth and in cardboard made from murdered trees, and containing Monsanto-owned, farmer enslaving grains and....
Wait, come back, I was about to give you the recipe. Gosh, take a chill pill... okay, not literally. Okay, fine, take a homeopathic organically grown St. John's Wort capsule. I'll wait.
Is it worth making your own granola? Let's check the list of things you would normally make at the store that you can make at home.
Not worth it
3. Pretty much everything that is not granola
Let's face it, granola is a great cereal and/or snack that you can pretend is healthy and organic-y, even as you coat it with all sorts of processed artificial ingredients. But its too damned expensive, so why would you buy it when its pretty easy to make at home, even if your idea of a complex recipe is a Betty Crocker box cake, and the ingredients are cheap — you'll end up paying a lot less per serving than store-bought.
So get your hardware out:
An oven, preheated to 300 degrees
Two mixing bowls, one biggish, one less so.
Various and sundry measuring things
whisks and spatulae and what not
a cookie sheet
a resealable container for the granola
And your food-gredients
Rolled oats (note: perhaps this does not bear pointing out, but oatmeal actually comes in forms other than little brown packets, like the hundred or so packets of Bananas and Cream instant oatmeal from the fruit and cream variety packs.)
Rice Crispies, or their generic, bag cereal equivalent (in some cases, bag cereal is superior to its brand-name equivalent, or in the case of crisp rice, indistinguishable from)
Brown sugar (light or dark)
Honey (any kind: the darkness and thickness of it will make a difference in the final product, but it all tastes good, and is also food stolen from starving baby bees)
Canola oil (any kind of light vegetable oil will work)
Start with the dry ingredients in the bigger bowl. First, three cups of the oats. Top those with some of the crispies. Oh, "some" doesn't seem to be an official measurement. How about a half cup? I usually just pour enough to make a layer across the oats. Next, 4 tbsp of the brown sugar (that's 1/4 cup, or 0.000185864697 wine firkins) right on top, 1/2 tsp of cinnamon (you can bump that up to a full tsp if you like) and 1/4 tsp kosher salt (or less; you just need a tiny bit). Now comes the fun part: thrust your filthy, patchouli-encrusted hands (For best result, remove filth and patchouli crust) into the mixture, and mix. You want the cinnamon blended all in and most of the brown sugar clumps broken up.
Now switch to the other bowl and the wet ingredients:
Pour in 1/3 cup of honey. I sometimes put as much as a 1/2 cup to make the granola stickier and clumpier. This is actually a good way to use up that crystallized honey in the back of your pantry. Honey, it is said, never goes bad, and still-good honey has been found in Egyptian tombs, possibly because they just couldn't wait for that last little bit to pour out of the bottle, this being before the invention of the spatula. Now, 1/4 cup vegetable oil and a tsp of vanilla extract. If you want to add anything like maple syrup or peanut butter (in my peanut-free household, Sun Butter). Whisk this all together, then pour it into the dry ingredients. Mix this together (you probably don't want to do this with your hands). Make sure all the dry stuff is coated; it will still look a little dry, but what you end up with should be spreadable on the baking parchment. Get it into one layer, then pop it in the oven for 10 minutes. Take it out and stir it up a bit, smoothing it out again before you put it back in the oven for another 5-10 minutes (in my oven, its 8). It won't be granola-y too much at this point, but it will stiffen up as it cools. Before it cools and hardens, you'll want to add any fruits or nuts (but let's leave your family out of it for now! /ba dump ching) and stir it up a bit. You can also make it into clusters if you like. Once it's cooled down and mostly stiff, break it apart and dump it into an airtight container, like one your BHP-filled, Chinese made tubs that originally held hyper-processed artery-clogging margarine (it's not a safe world we live in) or in your authentic fired clay pot, made from sustainable mud-fields and hand-thrown by indigenous people paid a living wage while still maintaining their traditional lifestyle.
Granola makes a good breakfast — I like mine with frozen blueberries and milk (only the blueberries are frozen, not the milk. Smartass). Or, as a mid-morning snack, dry with Craisins.
This recipe is infinitely variable: you can use any of your bullshit hippy grains instead of oats — spelt, millet,
quinioa quinoia qinwa rye or whatever it is that weird, smelly hippies and rich fucks who wish they could be weird, smelly hippies are eating now. You can vary the spices as well; I suppose you could make a savory/sweet if you're one of those weirdos who thinks you can just throw random ingredients together and call it fine cuisine (have you tried my Greek yogurt Sriracha motza kimchi ginger banana pudding?). I'm guessing you can change up the wet side, too: molasses, sorghum, or maple syrup would probably work, or you could just say "fuck it" and use Karo. The possibilities are limited only by your imagination and the endurance of the unfortunate people you're using as test-kitchen lab rats while you try to get selected for Next Food Network Star. So go granola, fellow hiveminders!