This might shock my mom when she reads it, but I'm going to go ahead and let the world know. I can't keep it in any longer. If I do I might just burst.
This weekend I made oatmeal for breakfast and I REALLY LIKED IT!
Growing up in my mother's house meant one main thing: breakfast. Real food, together, r-e-a-l-l-y early. And after bowl upon bowl of hot gooey oatmeal I just couldn't take it any longer. I graduated from high school, packed up my box of lucky charms and never looked back. For the past decade the soft, mushy, hot whole grain hasn't willingly passed my lips.
Until this weekend.
Because to me a hot bowl of oatmeal is akin to a new pair of shoes and a wool coat. It's the smell of freshly sharpened pencils and Elmer's glue. It's what I eat right before raking the fallen leaves and picking my Halloween pumpkin.
Oatmeal is my mom's love and my dad's annual prayer for my personal well-being.
And just so you know, I made it with a huge scoop of brown sugar, almond extract, dried cherries and toasted hazelnuts.....