I pottered around for a while this morning. Tidied up, read and answered emails, wrote letter and readied it for the post. It was not until twenty to ten that I thought about breakfast. For the first time this autumn, my mind went hungrily to porridge.
The Sage and I often have porridge for breakfast in the winter. But rarely do we cook and eat it together. Apart from the fact that, today, he had breakfasted and gone out long ago, this is for several reasons.
I cook it quickly, boiled fast so that the grains don't break down and there is still some texture as I eat.
He likes to simmer it gently for a long time, so that it is smooth and - is there a non-oily word that gives the same effect as unctuous? Without me actually mentioning wallpaper paste?
I add a pinch of salt before cooking.
He, virtuously, does not.
I make it with half milk, half water, as little as possible so that it is not too sloppy.
He makes it with half milk, half water, but plenty of it so that it is not too dry.
I add a few grains of dark brown Muscovado sugar, for flavour more than sweetness.
He adds a spoonful of white sugar for sweetness.
I add a few extra drops of milk, just enough that it doesn't actually set.
He adds plenty of milk.
It would be just too poncy to stand stirring two pans of porridge at the same time, but really, neither of us likes the way the other cooks it. Though we will be polite and eat it of course, if it has been, kindly, made.
Better to breakfast alone really.
However, if you do make porridge, maybe best not to take it back to the computer and idly read a few blogs as you eat. Not JonnyB, at any rate. A sudden laugh catching you unawares can eject a mouthful. Porridge is not easy to remove from a keyboard and must be done at once. Otherwise it sets, with properties not dissimilar from concrete.