The joys of savoury porridge
by Jan Hostyn
I sat hunched over at the kitchen table, my eyes fixed glumly on the bowl in front of me.
I knew I had to eat the gloppy mess inside; I just really didn’t want to. Letting it sit there and get colder by the minute wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it’s not like eating it hot was a much better option. My reluctance to spoon it from the bowl to my mouth was simply prolonging my agony, though. My mom was there to make sure I downed every last drop.
My mom called it porridge. We won’t get into what I called it.
It definitely wasn’t my mom’s best effort when it came to feeding us. She would measure a grain into a pot (at least I think she measured), pour in some water and then boil it forever. Voilà: breakfast.
The end result was a gummy, lumpy disaster. There was no thought whatsoever given to how it tasted – it just needed to be healthy. Not a speck of cinnamon or a dribble or milk made it anywhere near the pot, let alone any sort of fruit or nut, compote or nut butter. Nothing was added, not even a smidgen of salt. They were merely unnecessary distractions in my mom’s eye.
I hated porridge. Small wonder. Once I was no longer forced to consume it, I refused to go near anything remotely porridge-like.
But then I had kids. And porridge seemed like a healthy breakfast option, especially on cold mornings. So I experimented. I used different grains, but I also added things. A lot of things. Fruits and spices and nut butters and a whole assortment of other interesting toppings. And my kids liked my porridge. So much that they would actually request it. As for me? I still didn’t touch the stuff. It had far too many unpleasant memories associated with it.
Fast forward to a spring morning a few years back. My daughters and I found ourselves in London, faced with a cold and damp day. My girls were convinced it was perfect porridge weather, so we found a cute little café in Neal’s Yard that did porridge, and off we went.
Both of my daughters ordered sweet porridge but none of the options appealed to me – they were far too porridge-y. But something did catch my eye: oats cooked with onions and topped with crispy kale, a fried egg and a drizzle of sriracha. A savoury porridge.
To say it was a resounding success is a bit of an understatement. The creaminess of the oats, the sweetness of the onions, the richness of the egg, the slight bitterness of the kale and the punch of the sriracha – now that was porridge. Even my girls, more than sceptical at first, thought it was by far the best porridge of the morning.
It was such a hit that we made our way back to the café the next two mornings and all happily devoured a bowlful each.
Ever since, I’ve been slightly obsessed with the whole savoury porridge thing. I’ve gone from actively hating porridge to using “joy” and “porridge” in the same sentence. Because yes, porridge now makes me happy.
I’ve gone through many, many iterations of savoury porridge over the past years, and they’ve all been resoundingly good. And comforting. And oh-so-satisfying.
My base is always some form of homemade nut milk. It’s usually an assortment of nuts and seeds, and it’s never quite the same. Brazil nuts, almonds and hazelnuts all make regular appearances, as do sesame, sunflower, flax, hemp and pumpkin seeds. I’m constantly experimenting.
I soak all my nuts and seeds in water for a few hours, then I drain and rinse them. Everything gets dumped into my Vitamix with some water and after a quick blitz, my nut milk is done. I don’t even bother straining it. Since I just use it in my porridge, it doesn’t matter if it’s perfectly smooth or not. Milk or water would work too, but I love the rich creaminess nut milk adds, not to mention the added boost of nutrients it gives me. Another plus: it doesn’t leave a sticky residue on the pot like milk does.
The grains I use also vary. I always start with a base of steel-cut oats, but from there anything goes. Quinoa, freekeh, millet, sorghum, barley, wild rice…the options are endless. I cook up a big pot of my grain (or grains of the moment), dump them on a parchment-lined sheet pan in a single layer and freeze them. Once they’re frozen, I pour them into a freezer bag. That way I always have an assortment of cooked grains on hand at a moment’s notice.
I usually cook the grains in water, but any sort of stock would also be really good. I’ve even thought about using carrot juice. So far it’s just been a thought, though.
The toppings – now that’s where things get fun. I’ve tried everything from fried eggs to seared mushrooms to charred broccoli to you name it, I’ve probably tried it. Roasted squash with fried sage leaves and seared Brussels sprouts with parmesan shards seem to make frequent appearances in my porridge bowl lately, as do crunchy lentils.
You could even throw on some crispy bacon…
Whatever else I add, though, my porridge always starts with a hefty dollop of sautéed onions cooked together with the grains, and it’s always topped with a hearty dose of charred kale. My other musts: a liberal sprinkling of flaky sea salt, a generous smattering of pepper and a final drizzle of sriracha. Kind of an ode to that life-changing bowl of porridge I had in London, I guess. Other than that, though, I would say anything goes.
See, Mom, porridge can be good. Crazy good. Just ask my girls.