When I was a kid – many moons ago – my mother made breakfast almost every morning; a service I full-on took for granted. She made eggs or pancakes a lot, but on days she ran late (or just didn’t feel like it) she’d put out big boxes of brightly colored breakfast cereal. Lord how my brothers and I heaped our bowls with those chemical-laden nuggets. Lucky Charms. Cap’n Crunch. Frosted Flakes. Sure beat the horrid porridges my mother also chose to make. So, forgive my double-take when I sat down to a delicious helping of steel-cut oats the other day, deliberately passing up a beckoning box of Golden Grahams.
bo-r-r-r-r-ing…
Like tomatoes, avocados, and yogurt, I have zero fond memories of hot cereal in my childhood. I recall coming downstairs for breakfast, and before even reaching the kitchen I’d smell the distinct nastiness of cooked grains. Quaker Oats. Cream of Rice. Cream of Wheat. Wheatena (the worst of them all). My mother had more choices for hot cereal than she had sons (and she had a lot of sons). It’s like she wanted us to vote for “blandest breakfast”. Mercifully, she allowed small amounts of brown sugar and/or raisins to sweeten things up. And milk. Lots and lots of milk.
I should’ve figured this out decades ago. Hot cereal’s a whole lot better with fresh fruit (raisins are a poor excuse for fruit). Strawberries, blueberries, apples – they all turn “mush” into an appealing “meal”. And the learning curve continues. Rolled oats are better than instant oats. Steel-cut oats are way better than instant oats. And lest you’ve forgotten: anything is better than Wheatena (even tomatoes and avocados).
Tell me this: when was the last time you used “porridge” in a sentence (Brits aside)? What an utterly dated word. The last time – the only time I uttered “porridge” was reading “Goldilocks and The Three Bears” or jigging to “Peas Porridge Hot” (“…peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old…”). My nursery-rhyme days. Porridge doesn’t have a modern ring to it (did it ever?) and yet that’s exactly what we’re talking about today by definition: hot breakfast cereal made by boiling grains in water (or milk). Wikipedia counted ’em – all grain types included – and came up with seventy-five distinctly different porridges. Doesn’t matter. If I’m a kid I still opt for Froot Loops.
You need porridge trivia for your next socially-distant gathering and I’m happy to oblige. Consider the following:
Whole-grain oats date back to 7,000 BC, which sounds like dinosaur times to me (even though it isn’t). The Chinese and the Greeks made claim to the first versions of porridge back then.
Lisa Williams and “The Golden Spurtle”
If you’re supremely proud of your cooking, there’s a World Porridge-Making Championship in Scotland every October. The list of winners looks suspiciously Scottish (i.e. “Duncan Hilditch”, “Ian Cruickshank”, “Addy Daggert”) but last year’s champ was England’s Lisa Williams. She earned “The Golden Spurtle“, which begs a most excellent trivia question: What do you call a stick for stirring porridge?
In 1755 it was documented oats were horse food in England but people food in Scotland. Not exactly a boost to Scottish pride (although to be fair the people’s version was cleaned, toasted, hulled, and cooked).
In Portland, OR you used to be able to buy hot cereal from an oatmeal-only food cart. “Bloop” – with made-to-order mush like “Peanut Butter Banana Dreams” and “Good For You Goodness” – shuttered its wheels in 2011 after a single year in business. I get it: oatmeal’s no passing fad but it’s also no passing food truck.
Your standard can of oats (18 oz.) contains over 26,000 grains. Don’t count; just trust.
The oat capital of America is (drum roll…) Cedar Rapids, Iowa, home of most-popular-brand Quaker Oats. Small town, big factory.
Once upon a time, Quaker Oats included coupons in its oatmeal boxes redeemable for legal deeds to property in Milford, CT. Granted, the lots were only 10’x10′ but you could still be a landowner with a modest purchase of oatmeal. The whole scheme became a property tax collector’s nightmare and the lots were eventually condemned.
Speaking of the Quaker Oats Company, in the 1970’s they came out with flavored instant versions of their hot cereals. “Apples & Cinnamon” and “Maple & Brown Sugar” come to mind (“Ready in Just 90 Seconds!”). God answered my prayers to distance myself from Wheatena. Also deserving kudos, Quaker Oats used to own Fisher-Price Toys. Can’t you just picture the marketing division, trying to develop an “oatmeal plush” doll?
I’m devoted to my steel-cut oats these days but I’m not gonna pretend I’m not tempted by alternatives. Cheerios (especially the “Honey-Nut” variety) is the ultimate oat cereal. Life (especially the “Cinnamon” variety) is another delicious Quaker Oats product. And I’ll never get my childhood love for Lucky Charms out of my DNA. They’ll always be a little more “magically delicious” than porridge.
If you read my post last week, you know I was a little distressed over the recent shootings in my country. Blogging was intended to bring me a comfort in troubled times. In hindsight, maybe I was overthinking the situation. Maybe all I needed was comfort food. Enter Chick-fil-A. The popular fast-food chicken restaurant may never be forgiven for removing their awesome coleslaw from the “Sides” menu a few years back, but just this week they brought a new guest to the party. Hello, macaroni and cheese.
Amanda Norris is Chick-fil-A’s executive director of menu and packaging. She’s now my new best friend. A chicken sandwich and waffle fries, with a second side of mac & cheese? Heaven in a to-go bag, my friends. As Amanda puts it, “Mac & cheese is the quintessential comfort food… the perfect pairing… but it’s also great on its own as a snack”. In other words, I’ve just been given permission to drive-thru Chick-fil-A and order only mac & cheese. I’m a kid again!
Chick-fil-A’s mac & cheese
Chick-fil-A’s mac & cheese is made with a special blend of cheddar, Parmesan, and Romano, and baked fresh every day. Uh, push the pause button here. Three cheeses sounds a little fancy for the mac & cheese I had in mind. If the restaurant really wanted to arrow the bullseye, they should’ve done a deal with Kraft Foods and offered the mac & cheese. You know the one – the proud little blue-and-gold box of the “cheesiest”, with the pile of pasta curls and pouch of powdered who-knows-what? There’s simply no equal.
Kraft introduced its “Macaroni & Cheese Dinner” in 1937 with the slogan, “Make a meal for four in nine minutes”. Back then – the Depression years – you could buy two boxes of Kraft for a single food-rationing stamp (Make a meal for eight…!) Fast-forward to the 1980’s, when my wife and I were managing our shoestring food budget. At least we knew we could buy Kraft mac & cheese. Three boxes for a dollar!
Three-cheese blend aside, I agree with Chick-fil-A. Mac & cheese is the quintessential comfort food. Comfort food is defined as “… providing a nostalgic or sentimental value to someone”, and “…tends to be high in calories, high in carbs, and easy to prepare”. Well hey, you might as well just say, “Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Dinner”! Sure, you could turn to other comfort foods on Wikipedia’s short-list, like chicken soup, chocolate-chip cookies or grilled cheese (Tater Tots and sugary breakfast cereals didn’t make the list – for shame!), but take my money – and give me comfort – Kraft mac & cheese earns the top spot. Just ask any Canadian; it’s the most-purchased grocery item in the country.
Recently, mac & cheese sits side-by-side with Brussels sprouts as a trendy restaurant offering, even in the fancy places. The problem is in the spin – all those added ingredients for a supposedly better taste. Lobster mac & cheese. Mac & cheese pizza (topped with shredded Colby-Jack). Mac & cheese pie (with a bready crust). Even Kraft messed with the Original (“Star Wars-shaped” pasta? Come on!). Admittedly, their “Shells & Cheese Dinner” with the Velveeta cheese sauce is a pretty good option. But it’s not the Original.
Comfort foods are further defined as “… food associated with the security of childhood. They are believed to be a great coping mechanism for rapidly soothing negative feelings.” There it is, and that’s what I need right now. The couple of Kraft boxes in my pantry are calling me home.
Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”, and the foxnews.com article, “Chick-fil-A’s Mac and Cheese Hits Menus Nationwide”.
I should’ve figured this out decades ago. Hot cereal’s a whole lot better with fresh fruit (raisins are a poor excuse for fruit). Strawberries, blueberries, apples – they all turn “mush” into an appealing “meal”. And the learning curve continues. Rolled oats are better than instant oats. Steel-cut oats are way better than instant oats. And lest you’ve forgotten: anything is better than Wheatena (even tomatoes and avocados).
Tell me this: when was the last time you used “porridge” in a sentence (Brits aside)? What an utterly dated word. The last time – the only time I uttered “porridge” was reading “Goldilocks and The Three Bears” or jigging to “Peas Porridge Hot” (“…peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old…”). My nursery-rhyme days. Porridge doesn’t have a modern ring to it (did it ever?) and yet that’s exactly what we’re talking about today by definition: hot breakfast cereal made by boiling grains in water (or milk). Wikipedia counted ’em – all grain types included – and came up with seventy-five distinctly different porridges. Doesn’t matter. If I’m a kid I still opt for Froot Loops.
In Portland, OR you used to be able to buy hot cereal from an oatmeal-only food cart. “Bloop” – with made-to-order mush like “Peanut Butter Banana Dreams” and “Good For You Goodness” – shuttered its wheels in 2011 after a single year in business. I get it: oatmeal’s no passing fad but it’s also no passing food truck.
Speaking of the Quaker Oats Company, in the 1970’s they came out with flavored instant versions of their hot cereals. “Apples & Cinnamon” and “Maple & Brown Sugar” come to mind (“Ready in Just 90 Seconds!”). God answered my prayers to distance myself from Wheatena. Also deserving kudos, Quaker Oats used to own Fisher-Price Toys. Can’t you just picture the marketing division, trying to develop an “oatmeal plush” doll?
I’m devoted to my steel-cut oats these days but I’m not gonna pretend I’m not tempted by alternatives. Cheerios (especially the “Honey-Nut” variety) is the ultimate oat cereal. Life (especially the “Cinnamon” variety) is another delicious Quaker Oats product. And I’ll never get my childhood love for Lucky Charms out of my DNA. They’ll always be a little more “magically delicious” than porridge.
Life In A Word 