It is a cloudy and crisp morning here, and my Porridge season has just begun.
I insist there’s a season for this “heart- warming” oaten breakfast, (you obviously can’t eat porridge in the heat of August, as it tends to warm you up, not a bit, but a lot) just as there’s a season for iced coffee, crumpets, fruit salads in the morning.
My Porridge Season could run from the coldest day of September (ok, sometimes I just can’t control the situation and I find myself cooking porridge in what we could all agree is a hot summery morning, but that’s another story) to Easter, but I think it would be better to involves just those days when my hot water bottle is my best friend and I can’t just bear the idea of getting out of the bed, but just cuddling in.
The Porridge season, for me, has a much friendlier ring than the artichokes one, which I think it’s all over, every year, too soon. But not for my sister, who’s absolutely disgusted by any kind of porridge.
I’m currently trying different types: this morning was the day of apple, chocolate and cinnamon. No need to say it was absolutely delicious. As I am out of practice, I’m still working on the right size of daily portion, and this morning I definitely exaggerate: half of it would be better, a pinch of salt, no milk, yes to honey, cinnamon and chocolate. I didn’t remember it’s so fulfilling.