Porridge

My mother once served me and my sister with porridge when we were kids. We found it absolutely inedible and, somewhat untypically, she never tried to impose it on us again. Since then this was one of the meals I only needed to look at to lose appetite. Then in 2014 in Argyll I noticed that many Scots my age apparently still perceived porridge as a common starter to a ‘full breakfast’ and that in a sense this tradition was still kept by the young ones, although these seemed more usually to opt for cornflakes.

Walking in the local Tesco on Monday I noticed they sold not only cornflakes, but indeed oatmeal as well. This set me thinking whether I shouldn’t, after all those years, give it another try. Either I’d find out that in fact it wasn’t so bad, or I’d know for sure it was. A look at the sachet told me that – contrary to my knowledge – there was no half-hour to be spent at the hotplate, no milk involved (I don’t have a fridge), simply preparing it like an instant noodle soup. That decided.

Upon opening the sachet the following morning the contents actually smelled good, and although the taste definitely wasn’t such as to make me look forward for the next time, I concluded that a next time there would be. Everybody claims it’s a healthy meal, it’s a traditional Scottish meal, it’s not particularly expensive and it can be made thin enough for me to consume fairly easily despite my current throat problems. All things said and done, it’s a no-brainer: I intend to breakfast on it a few times every week.

 

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