Ode to oatmeal

I have been a bit under the weather, tired, not 100%, not firing on all cylinders, if you want to reduce me to an internal combustion engine. I could be an uncurable optomist and note that the slowing economy has made it easy for me to get my work done, but alas, "refilling my tank" by taking naps only seems to make me come up with more brilliant ideas that need tending.

Part of the problem is information. It's everywhere, and it means that even if I decide to lounge in my pajamas for half a day and wallow in tissue and pity, I can still take in information that is seemingly unrelated, even if I'm not capable of stringing together a few words into a coffee break read for you.

This morning is the case in point: A cup of tea from my Darling Husband brought bedside was the harbinger of a Day Off. No, said he, they can sort bugs without me, I’ll drive carpool, you stay in bed and rest up. I was too tired to put up a fight, downed the tea, and resumed snoozing. Upon awakening, I had only to reach over the side of the bed, where the aforementioned Darling Man had placed my laptop. Once the wireless bars lit up, I eventually learned that life was marching on (I read the comics before the headlines), that I had somehow once again managed to miss all but one of the films nominated for best picture by the Academy (and that was only because they have doubled the number of nominees), and that Ani in England had had a bowl of oatmeal five minutes prior. You would think I would be more compelled by the TED lecture posted on sharing data on medical conditions or the news item that a citizenship request for a man who required his wife to wear a burqua was denied by the French. But I kept coming back to that lowly bowl of oatmeal.

And so I ventured out from under my warm quilt to the kitchen and found it. There, behind the instant variety that lures Little One out of his own lair, next to the tub of homemade granola: the yellow paper bag that made the trek from the Olde Country, Irish oatmeal. Which explains that steaming bowl of warm goodness that is warming my belly far more than the hot water bottle ever could.

Nothing and everyone

At the beginning of my voyage as a parent of a school-aged child, the dainty preschool teacher pulled me aside at pickup one afternoon, and said, “we’d like to celebrate your son’s birthday next week. Could you bake a cake for him to share with the class?” Of course I can, thought I. And then the restrictions started: Please don’t use sugar or chocolate (there went my first choice); we have one child who cannot eat wheat (ok, so no cake, maybe an apple tart), another two who are vegan, one who can’t eat apples (maybe not the tart).

This posed a challenged, since our family had not yet dealt with our own food sensitivities. But I had an inkling it could be done, and hit the books: the cookbooks, to be precise. Working from a Cynthia Lair recipe (and learning in the process that she was a fellow Waldorf parent), I concocted what came to be known as “The Nothing Tart,” because it had nothing in it that excluded anyone and can be easily modified to conform to the ever-shifting matrix of a class' dietary restrictions. It became a birthday staple, and is still requested on a regular basis.

The Nothing Tart

Crust:

1¼ cups rolled oats or quinoa flakes (Bob’s Red Mill brand oats are gluten free)
½ cup ground nuts (any combination of walnuts, pecans or almonds)
¼ cup flour (wheat, spelt, barley, amaranth or oat)
pinch of salt
2 Tbl maple syrup
2 Tbl cold-pressed vegetable oil
2 Tbl water

Filling:

2 cups frozen berries, thawed (any combination of berries you like)
1 cup apple or berry juice
2 Tbl kuzu or 4 T cornstarch

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Combine oats, ground nuts, flour and salt in a bowl. Add syrup, oil and water, mix well. With wet hands, press the mixture into a 10-12" tart pan. Bake 10-12 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool. (Can be done ahead.)

Mix juice and kuzu or cornstarch together in a saucepan until dissolved. Add thawed berries. Heat mixture over medium heat, stirring constantly until thick and clear, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and pour into prebaked crust. Cool at room temperature or in refrigerator before serving.

Over the years, I have been joined by one or two moms as we filled out school potlucks and dealt with class outings of increasing duration and complexity. And before we knew it, our babies were departing on their final voyage as a class last week, a six-day trek to the middle of nowhere. We had three hectic days to pull together 30 alternate meals that could survive horseback riding and river rafting while feeding five kids with sensitivities ranging the easy (gluten, eggs, dairy) to the more challenging (corn, pineapple, almonds and rice). One mom kicked into full quinoa mode; one shopped and froze; we all planned. I pulled baking duty, which covered breakfast and dessert. In the end, we filled one cooler and one roughneck with packets painstakingly labeled with ingredients and days. And we were successful: our kids were fed well, and only a little food came back (one quinoa salad was a clear bomb, and will not be repeated).

Yesterday, we “graduated”our nine children from eighth grade. Others made cards and presented token gfts and flowers. But I cook. And so, in recognition of this milestone, I offer food for all: from the Nothing Tart, through Maria crackers (amaranth-based) and Lucia buns, to the Class of 2009 Everyone Granola.

Class of ‘09 Everyone Granola

8 c rolled oats (Bob’s Red Mill brand)
1 c raw honey
1 c pure maple syrup
1 c vegetable oil (canola or safflower)
1 T vanilla extract (any brand without maltodextrin)
1 T sea salt

1 T cinnamon
½ t nutmeg
1 c dried apples
OR
2 t cinnamon
2 c dried berries (strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries)

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
2. Place the oats in a very large mixing bowl.
3. In a very large saucepan over medium-high heat, combine the honey, maple syrup, oil, vanilla extract and salt. As the mixture begins to boil, it will increase in volume considerably. Stir and watch closely!
4. Pour the boiling mixture over the oats in the mixing bowl and stir with a wooden spoon until well combined.
5. Distribute the granola on two large baking sheets and bake for 10 minutes.
6. With a metal spatula, turn the granola without too much stirring, and bake 10 minutes more.
7. Add any nuts and turn the granola again, making sure to not break apart the clusters that are forming.
8. Return the granola to the oven for 5-6 more minutes; remove and gently stir in the dried fruit. Do not overbake.
9. Cool the granola completely and then transfer to an airtight container.

Yellow bowl

For many years, we have used a rotation diet in our household to help us balance between foods that act as allergens and eating what most people call "normally." A rotation gives us the chance to have lasagna and ice cream cones--but not every day. And the knowledge gained from learning to think and cook a different way makes it possible to adjust our diet to the stresses and illness that ebb and flow through our days.

Over the years, the rotation was honed to the rhythm of our lives: a lighter breakfast for those early dismissal days, wheat and diary allowed on Sundays when we were all home for tea and cake. Loads of spaghetti (spelt pasta with sheep's milk romano) on Wednesday, golden waffles on Sunday morning. When we were sick, we could use dairy substitutes even on "dairy" days; when traveling, we can choose the days to "blow the diet." The goal is to maintain our health in the long-term, and the method was not to deprive ourselves of things we loved to eat every single day of every week, of every month, for years or forever.

We bought the waffle iron six years ago, at a school auction. It was a whim, and we have used it almost every Sunday since then. There are exceptions: muffins when there were fresh blueberries; buttery hot cross buns for Easter morning, pancakes when camping. Over the years, we found a waffle mix we liked a lot, and it was sheer luck that it was based on a rice flour.

During our first weeks on the Emerald Isle, I acquired a few items that I knew we would need: a drying rack (two actually, since jeans and towels take two days to dry), a printer/scanner/copier (the scanner part to be paperless, and the printer part because paperless is still a distant dream), a good sized stockpot (pasta in teenage-sized portions), and a yellow mixing bowl. I couldn't bring the waffle iron with because of the voltage thing, but I figured I could still make pancakes from scratch.

I had read that Ireland, like many northern European nations, has a fairly high rate of celiac sprue, so I was expecting that gluten free products would be relatively easy to find. There are three different types of GF flour made by Odlums (the Irish equivalent of Pillsbury) in the supermarket, but they contain egg albumen as a binder, which means I can't use them. Luckily, the health food store in town had a little bag of rice-based bread flour, and the Internet had several GF pancake recipes to choose from.

The first pancakes out of the pan were pale and flavorless. I added some salt and sugar, and they started to taste better, especially when slathered with jam and yogurt. But they were still pale, and I knew I was in trouble when Number One used the term gelatinous when referring to them the second weekend.

So yesterday in Tesco, I bought what they call a sandwich pan. It looks a bit like a shallow pie pan, almost like a cake pan. What it does hold nicely is scones. Before kids, I had perfected buttery oat scones; this morning, my yellow bowl served to mix up some GF scones laced with chunks of green apples from the neighbor's tree. It may be that waffles will have to wait until we're home again.

Oatey Scones (GF)

1 3/4 c GF flour mix (I used Doves Farm White Bread mix, a base of white rice flour with potato starch, tapioca starch, and xantham gum)
1/4 t salt
2 t baking powder
1 t baking soda
1/4 c butter
2 T sugar
2 T brown sugar
1/4 c porridge oats
1/4 c apples, chopped
1/4 t cinnamon

1/4 c (soy) yogurt
3/4 c (soy) milk

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Mix dry ingredients thoroughly. Cut in the butter. Mix in liquids as gently as possible. Dough should be moist & slightly sticky so add more if necessary, a little at a time.
Turn mixture into buttered pan, shape roughly, score in quarters (or eighths) with a floured knife. Bake 20-25 minutes. Serve warm with more butter and jam.

A perfect storm

Every Wednesday morning, Mama Duck drags me out of bed to help her make breakfast, usually from a chicken egg (though once I used duck eggs, not hers). This morning, cool and clear, came far too early, punctuated by visits from the Tooth Fairy and a perambulating Little One, as well as my new phone reminding me that I forgot to turn off the reminder alarm.

It was me who had to drag Mama Duck from her nest this morning, to make pancakes, since that’s what needs to be used up. Bacon was also on the menu for the same reason, as well as the fact that it would be positively un-American to not have bacon with pancakes. And this is an election year.

There is a Russian proverb that says that you always have to throw out the first pancake, so I nearly always plan on it. But this morning was different. Perhaps it was Mama Duck’s gentle coaching, perhaps I’m just better than I think I am, but there were no dud pancakes. And the bacon came out, well, perfectly.

We’ve been watching the weather forecast for Dublin intently, noting the differences and the sameness; today is the first day that the three day forecast includes a day that we will see there. Met Éireann, the Irish national weather service, is predicting a fair day, with a bit of sun and 66 degrees, about as good as it gets. This is a good thing, as Hanna (not our Hannah, but the one that pummeled the Gulf) has followed the jet stream all the way to Dublin, and is getting the last drops out of her system as I write.

We are down to one pot of soup for tonight, and snacks for the plane tomorrow. The adventure begins, on a full tummy of a full American breakfast.

Cocoa

One of the hardest things to give up has been that lovely bacon-and-eggs breakfast that I indulged in when nursing our youngest. Between losing weight and dietary restrictions, I might indulge in the occasional hash browns, but the Full Irish must, alas, be but a distant memory, at least for a while.

To compensate, I've been indulging myself with a mid-morning cocoa.

Now, as a child, breakfast was not my thing. My mother used to jokingly remind me that as a baby, I liked two big meals: one mid-morning, one mid-afternoon. I'm still not a morning person, as our exchange student has learned (I may look awake, but I'm not), and I still don't like most breakfast foods. If I can't have a greasy mess, forget it.

So, after putting in an hour or two at work, I shuffle upstairs and make myself cocoa. Last year at this time, I was using eggnog, thinned with milk (too thick otherwise), but this year, doctor's orders means being creative. I've been experimenting with Silk Soy Nog. It's quite good with Green and Black's Hot Chocolate. Other good combinations are made with almond milk (Blue Diamond's vanilla Almond Breeze is an excellent base). My standby is vanilla almond milk with Ghirardelli Double Chocolate, but I have a whole collection of chocolate to add to hot (almond) milk: the aforementioned Green & Black's, which also comes in an incredibly tasty version called Maya Gold, with cinnamon and chili; Ghirardelli's collection, including the double chocolate, hazelnut (once that's back on the menu) and mocha (for mornings where I need a kick start); and the old standby of Cadbury drinking chocolate. I'm fortunate to have my husband's work colleagues who visit regularly from Ireland, and they keep us in good supply (I trade them peanut brittle and jelly bellies for it).

My mid-morning cocoa break is now over, and I shall get back to work.