With a new semester beginning and the pace of life picking up, I did something I’ve been meaning to do for weeks: I made granola. Nothing earth-shattering about this except the way I felt when I was making it, which was hungry. Very hungry.

It dawned on me as I stirred the oats, nuts, flaked coconut and other ingredients, that if I lived even 100 years ago, certainly 150, I would usually have had to bake, boil or toast my breakfast. There would have been no instant oatmeal, no cold cereals to pour into a bowl with a splash of milk (or not), no containers of yogurt at the ready. I would often have been hungry while preparing a meal.

As it stands now, much of my food is “fast food,” since I often get by with salads assembled or leftovers reheated. And if I’m preparing a meal and already starving, I just dip into the cupboard for a handful of almonds and the pangs are staved off until hot food is on the table.

What struck me this morning is how instantly gratified I am in the kitchen and how rare this condition is throughout human history. It’s an awareness I’d like to keep in mind. And I will … once I dig into the granola.