Jan 10, 2006
Stodge
I’m trying really hard to start the day with a proper breakfast, rather then just grabbing tea and maybe a muffin on my way in to the office.
It’s not a New Year’s resolution – the timing is coincidental – but I must admit to being inspired by hearty breakfasts at my mum’s place in Scotland over the turn of the year.
The trouble is, nice podge (oh alright, porridge) made for you by someone with years of experience, is pretty hard to reproduce in the comfort of your own home. And believe me, I’ve tried.
The thing is, I can make porridge – I’m not a total numpty. Only, whenever I’ve been called upon to make some, it’s been for a dozen people or more, in the course of work in various student jobs, years ago. So my sense of quantity and scale is all out of kilter (no pun intended), which is a big problem, when it comes to podge.
See, too much milk (or too few oats, or not enough cooking), and you end up with gruel. Too little milk (or too many oats, or too much cooking) and you end up with a thick paste, the consistency of dough.
So when I saw packets of Fuck Me, It’s Oaty in the breakfast aisle of the supermarket, I though I was on to a surefire winner. Individual portions. Simple instructions. Splosh of milk, bung it in the microwave, bosh.
And yet, I still managed to screw it up, somewhere along the line. What was supposed to be a medium bowlful of hearty, healthy porridge “hot oat cereal” with a drizzle of honey, was instead a lump of unappetising sticky grey stodge, which took a lot of chewing, stuck in my throat and has been laying heavy in my stomach all day. I’ve been wary of drinking too much liquid, in case it soaks it up and I end up like one of those sheep, fit to pop.
Back to the breakfast drawing board, I think.
