Oatmeal

There are certain foods I don’t like, don’t care about, and really could care less whether or not my tastes for them change. Eggs, for example, are a food I could definitely do without. The smell of them makes me want to vomit, which really doesn’t make me want to ever think about eating them.

Oatmeal, however, is not one of those foods. I have always really wanted to like oatmeal. In the bowl it always looks so delicious, so creamy and good for your soul. Once in a while I’ll have an urge to make a bowl to see if my tastes have changed, and I always end up with the same, disappointed feeling when oatmeal and I don’t get along.

So when I found a Heart Health Awareness Month series on the TasteSpotting blog for different ways to eat oatmeal, even though my brain told me that I should want nothing to do with oatmeal my mouth couldn’t help watering. Oatmeal with fruit and honey? With butternut squash? Mushroom risotto (Ris-oat-o)??? It all just sounded so good!

I found myself obsessed with one recipe in particular. It was very simple but sounded so delicious. The secret was to drizzle olive oil on the cooked oats, and then add salt and pepper to taste. Sounds wonderful, right?

Over spring break when I was home alone and lonely I ended up making it. The oatmeal smell wasn’t as incredible as I had hoped, but the olive oil, salt, and pepper were divine. The first few bites were heaven– the earthy oats complimented the toppings perfectly– but after that my love affair with my oatmeal began to sour. Oatmeal raisin cookies are one of my favorite types of cookies, so I really think my dislike for the dish is a texture thing. The oats I’ve had are always pretty mushy, so maybe the secret is finding someone who actually knows how to make proper oatmeal.

My oatmeal experience ended poorly over spring break. What started out as a terrific discovery ended up with half a bowl of oats uneaten and unloved. That’s not to say that oats lose their special place in my heart. I still really want to like oatmeal. Until I find someone to teach me to make it, though, I’ll just have to love it from afar.

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