Thursday, April 8, 2010

porridge

I suppose intellectually I understand why people don't like porridge. The plainness. The lumpiness. Bad childhood memories, maybe?

From my point of view, though, it's hard to relate to the porridgehaters.

Oats. Flahavans organic, quite small so they cook down fast and smooth. Milk of choice (rice, in my case, currently, despite its supposed arsenic content, sigh).

You let it come to a boil, then turn it down and stir it now and again. I like to put blueberries in it, that burst in little hot purple pops when you bite down on them, and spread tart sweetness through the vanilla flavoured porridge. If I was being unhealthy, I'd put some butter and salt in too. And flax seed (healthy, not unhealthy).

My kids have it with maple syrp, which is dangerously deliciously too sweet-sweet.

Cinnamon and butter and salt and vanilla is good, too, in winter, when you need something spicy and warming. Or pears.

It's the mix of stodgy, creamy, salty, warm, sweet textured spoonfuls that do it for me. The plainness is a good thing, somehow.

Porridge, I love thee.

Oh. I forgot a bit. And then I wrote it and lost it, when my little darling smallest one leaned against the dodgy connection.

My mother used to make me poridge for breakfast, and leave it in the bottom oven of the Aga while I was getting ready. So by the time I got to it, in one of my grandmother's handmade bowls, it would have solidified and have a skin on top. Each spoonful would be creamy and buttery and warm and slightly resilient. I love it like that, but I'm never patient enough to let it happen.

I will admit that I felt sorry for the language student I had once who was from the Orthodox Christian church and told us they celebrated with Christmas Porridge - with nuts and raisins and cream. Oh, said my friend when I told her. That sounds like my mother's everyday porridge.

Yes. I wouldn't be a proponent of Christmas porridge at all, it may be lovely, but it isn't chocolate and roast potatoes, no indeed.

I have  a feeling I've posted about this before, but it is a constant in my life. And also, I'm summoning the energy to report about the funeral, so I'm avoiding.

7 comments:

Ms. Moon said...

I swear- in theory I love porridge (we call it oatmeal) but in reality, I believe I have eaten too much of it to enjoy it anymore, no matter how "gourmet" I make it, no matter what berries or fruit I put in it. No matter what! Now, if I ate it like my husband (which is how my grandfather ate it who lived to his nineties) with butter and brown sugar on it, I might enjoy it, rather than just eat it because I know it's so good for me.

Jo said...

Aw, that's sad. Quantity rarely phases me, I must admit :)

Variety is the spice of life though.

Martin said...

Even the name makes me run a mile. Call it 'ready-break' though and I'd eat a bucket full.

Jo said...

Ah. Pureed porridge!

What's wrong with porridge? Porridge, porridge, porridge! Perfect. It's onomatopoeiac!

Geeks in Rome said...

Is porridge oatmeal? I have to admit I am porridge illiterate. I always thought porridge was something akin to "gruel."

I was introduced to oatmeal late in life since they didn't have instant back then and my mom had no time to cook in the a.m.

I make it all the time now that we have a microwave and the kids love it. I can hide apples in it by grating them to a pulp, then brown sugar, cinnamon and milk!!!! Yum!

Jo said...

:)

Porridge is oatmeal, and I think gruel is just oldschool, unappealing porridge. Thin, lumpy, made with water.

Bethany said...

i love love love this. i love the description especially of the blueberries popping. but the whole thing made me happy.