I’ll admit that I have memories, unpleasant ones, of the first sort of porridge. Places where it was made in pots about 2 ft high, with water and served almost cold, it was lumpy and tasteless, a repulsive dish with almost no redeeming qualities and the power to bring back disgusting memories for decades.
But then I discovered how to make porridge with rolled oats (as opposed to quick oats, or tearing open a sachet). I softened them with boiling water - letting them stand for a few minutes, then added a pinch of salt and cooked them with milk. I derived enjoyment from standing over the pot stirring them as they came to the boil, then letting them thicken on a low heat. The emerging bubbly holes reminded me of Rotorua, and it always smelled so yum (as opposed to Rotorua!). At first I only knew about eating porridge the way I had been shown when growing up: with brown sugar and milk. I liked it that way, but then I started branching out – a few dates with boiling water poured on them, left for 5 minutes and then mashed with a fork, paired with rich, decadent, tasty cream. Bliss! Or honey and pistachios. Or fresh berries. Ripe banana. Maple Syrup. Ground almonds.
And then, a whole new dimension. One day I learned about porridge made with steel cut oats. Intrigued, I asked to learn more. The response was filled with twinkling eyes and happy smiles. You make several days-worth at a time, and each day it gets better and better. You start with, say, one cup of steel cut oats (enough for one person for three days). The night before, you sauté them in butter or olive oil or coconut oil for a few minutes. They smell amazing, like popcorn. Then you cover them with boiling water and take the pot off the heat, and leave them overnight with the lid on and wrapped in a towel (if you want to). The next morning, you make your porridge as usual using whatever you would normally use (I am a milk girl). Because the oats have softened overnight, the porridge only takes about 10 mins to make, which is much shorter than when you make it from scratch using rolled oats. That first day the porridge has a kibbled sort of texture – a bit creamy but also a bit chewy. It’s delicious. When the leftover pot of porridge has cooled, you place it in the fridge ready for the next morning. By the next morning, it has hardened to an unappetizing mass, and looks pretty yuk. But you put the pot on the heat, add some more liquid, and bring it back to life for round two. In a couple of minutes the porridge is bubbling and ready. And it tastes wonderful – all creamy but with an undertone that the sautéing has brought. Usually there is enough for one more day, so back in the fridge it goes. The next morning, once it has been revived with more liquid, it is at its peak – all creamy and rich tasting. The porridge is warm, filling and comforting but not heavy, and sits nicely in the stomach as you enter your day, especially if it is cold. Having a nice meal like that always carries me successfully through the early, busy part of the day until coffee time.
I must admit, I was skeptical. I know what quinoa tastes like, and I know what buckwheat tastes like, and neither of them are particularly nice just boiled – I could barely stretch my imagination to cover what the two combined would taste like. But his enthusiasm got to me, and since my pantry happened to contain both, I decided to give it a go. I boiled ½ a cup of each of them in 1 ½ cups water, with a pinch of salt. When the water disappeared, I steamed them for a while with the lid on and the heat switched off. I tasted the result – ugh! Then I scooped some out into a new pot and reheated it through with milk, making a runny sort of dish. I poured it into a bowl, sprinkled a good tsp of cinnamon on top, stirred ½ a tsp of honey through (only ½ tsp seeing as how I am on a sugar reduction right now), and topped with 1/3 banana diced in tiny pieces. I tentatively tasted it – bliss!! So much so that I made some more the next day, and the day after that! It’s really tasty!
This arctic blast has definitely brought out the goldilocks in me.