I grew up eating oatmeal for breakfast every morning. Okay…nearly every morning. My mother cooked it in a Revereware stainless steel pot. My grandmother used a much-loved, old, bent copper pot. Understandably, I thought that oatmeal came from standing at the stove, stirring a pot.
But then I fell in love.
My very Irish sweetie owns a Zojirushi rice cooker. He uses it (almost) every morning to cook our oats. We fill it with exactly 4 ounces of steel cut Irish oats and 16 ounces of water. A big pinch of salt. Set it for 6:00 AM, wait for its funny little song, and that’s it until morning.
Promptly at 6:00 is sings its goofy song again (is there any way to program the thing with better music?) and then politely holds it, warmed and waiting, for our arrival.
Add milk, maple syrup, raisins (him), or coconut milk, honey, walnuts, and frozen raspberries (me), and you have the beginning of very good day…and perhaps a better way of cooking one’s breakfast.
A recipe you say?
For two people: 4 oz steel cut oats, 16 oz water, big pinch of salt (or not; it’s fine either way). Close the lid, set the timer for […]AM, hit “Menu > porridge”. Press the “cooking” button. Wait for the silly song.