When I was in third grade I had in a role in my first play ever and it was my all-time favorite, Oliver Twist. I sadly was only given one line in the whole dang thing (I was gunning for the role of Dodger but didn’t get it) and that was, “Can I have some more porridge, please.”
I made sure to make my eyes look really sad and puppy dog-like and used the best fake English accent I could muster up. I’m pretty sure it was awful. I remember never really knowing what porridge was at the time, and honestly my opinion of it as I grew older was scarred from that experience. I figured it must’ve been awful if all “orphans” could get their hands on was a big bowl of mushy porridge.
Porridge has made a big 180 in my head. Porridge would be pressed to find a bigger fan. This porridge love story starts with persimmons, the other love of mine.
Some of the best stuff isn’t planned. And today I present you the most delicious accident that’s happened in a loooong time.
You’re actually supposed to be staring at cute little baked oatmeal cups. I pictured you whipping them up for a Mama’s Day brunch and setting them alongside blood orange mimosa, iced coffee and super pretty flowers. But I failed you. SAD! I failed to bring the cuteness, I think. But that’s okay, because as I sat there pondering why and how the baked oatmeal cups went wrong, I started spooning it straight out of the muffin tins…and found myself repeating this act over and over and over. My accident was delicious!
So, rather than trying to make something cute, I decided to remake the dish–tweaking a few things here and there–and just throwing it all in a casserole dish. Sometimes tasty trumps cute, you know. And that sometimes is riiiiight now…
When I worked in an office with dark carpeting, stark lighting, long meetings, cubicles galore and scary HR people, the thing that disturbed me the most was the instant oatmeal that everyone loved eating for breakfast.
I’d go into the kitchen and watch people as they would empty out oatmeal packets into those paper bowls…they’d fill them with hot water, stir in some splenda, tell everyone about their weekend trip to Yosemite, I’d act like I was paying attention (but totally wasn’t)…because I was busy…wondering if they were just addicted to the ritual of oatmeal-making, or if they actually liked microwaved, soggy stuff. So I’d wait for it…
They’d shove a spoonful in their mouths…and they always looked like they liked it. And then I’d stand there, perturbed and think to myself, Man, humans are such complicated creatures.
Are you one of these instant-oatmeal loving humans?!
If so..let’s chat. I want to understand you. You intrigue me.