I am not a hippie.

I don’t like being dirty, for one thing. I’m also really into material possessions. I’ve never really been into the official food of the hippies either. Granola has never been able to excite me. It always has the wrong stuff in it, it always has the wrong texture, and it always seems to embody the worst traits of both that which is healthy and that which is not.

But then, on a whim, I threw together some stuff in the pantry and presto! Granola! Turns out it’s incredibly easy! Also, delicious. Also, addictive.

These are the lengths to which granola has made me go. After munching on some delicious, delicious granola for breakfast, I went to work and burned my mouth on some hot tea. That didn’t prevent me from eating granola for dessert that night, which ripped up my tender mouth. I then repeated the process the next day, with hot soup and more granola, and the day after that with hot pizza and yet more granola. What I’m saying is that you can’t refuse the granola, no matter how sore your soft palate gets.

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Oh sure, today it’s sunny and warm and I had to roll the windows down and use the air conditioner to cool off my sun-baked car. Where was this weather at the beginning of the week when it was raining so hard that major roads flooded and turned my place of business into a damp island? Weather! Stop toying with me!

Anyway, I had some fennel and it was wet and cold, so I decided to gratinée. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was going to be a fan. I’ve never been a licorice person, but lately I’ve been enjoying fennel seed as an accent in soups and sautés, as a flavor that remains surprising no matter how many times I use it. After nipping a bite of raw fennel and realizing it was not for me, I decided some slow cooking was the answer.

I had already found a use for the fronds, so I cut up my bulb and sliced up the stalks for my gratin. You’ll notice that I haven’t included the stalks in my recipe below. That’s because they’re horrible. Even after extensive cooking, they’re fibrous, tough, and inedible. I don’t recommend trying to eat them.

I do, however, recommend the fennel bulb. Even my dad, who had spent much of the evening railing against the evil of fennel, conceded that they were quite nice indeed. After cooking, the licoricey flavor had mellowed into a subtle bitterness against the tender, cabbage-like texture. It was enhanced by the richness of the buttery cheese, and provided a nice accompaniment to the lamb chop I ate with it.

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It’s funny how the familiar becomes invisible. When I open my fridge at home, my eyes slide over everything for which I’m not looking; I could probably give it a pretty thorough raid blindfolded. Milk and juice are on the door at the bottom, sauces and condiments above it, produce in the drawers, and leftovers on the shelves. It’s easy to ignore what you expect to see.

It’s refreshing, then, to dive into a new format. I’m housesitting at the moment, and the fridge here is organized completely differently than what I know. Upon opening it, I was confronted by a bounty of foods that weren’t so much alien as surprising. Most surprising was the way my eyes were snagged by something I rarely even consider, commonplace though they are: eggs.

My gaze next alit on a wedge of cheese, gouda with sundried tomatoes and basil. What coincidence! The fridge also harbored fresh basil and a jar of sundried tomatoes packed in oil. The ingredients practically formed my plan for me.

I melted a little butter into a nonstick pan over medium heat and poured in two eggs beaten with a little half-and-half. After they had started to set up, bubbling slightly in the middle, I pushed the edges in and sprinkled thinly sliced cheese, julienned sundried tomatoes, and shredded basil. I folded them over until the cheese had melted into the eggs, which had hit the sweet spot of soft but firm, creamy but cooked.

I sprinkled a little salt on top and dished it out. The rich eggs and smoky gouda were highlighted by the sweetness of the tomatoes and the grassiness of the basil. It was delicious. Next time, I’ll go looking for it.