A True Story of Humble Oats and Milk

by Antoine

This is a true story. The characters are real people. I put it here because I wanted to tell this story in the style of a show that loves food as much as I do. I want you to envision this story from within the point of view of Shokugeki no Soma. I want you to feel the passion. The main characters are not famous heroes, but the humble ingredients, oats and milk.

I'm no professional chef, but let me tell you a story from my own cooking journey. A tale of two very humble ingredients:

oats

and milk

I had been cooking oats for breakfast for a while for the health benefits. At one point, I decided to give steel-cut oats a try. Compared to traditional rolled oats, steel cut oats are simply sliced pieces of the original groat (oat grain). Not being flattened like rolled oats, they retain their three-dimensional bulk. As such, they are supposedly even healthier, with a lower glycemic index, and even more of a "toothsome" mouthfeel. However, they also take much more time to cook, since it takes longer for the moisture to soak deeply in the hardened volume of the groat.

I started cooking them very simply, with water in a slow cooker. I could start them at night and enjoy them for breakfast. This was fine, but the recipe on the box said that I could use milk instead of water for a richer flavor, and I decided to give that a try.

I tried using milk instead of water in the slow cooker, but the milk at the bottom burned a bit. I enjoyed the oats, but my wife is cursed with the "god tongue", and she could not help but taste the trace of the burned milk, even when served oats from the top of the pot. So, I set out to find a way to cook the steel-cut oats with milk without any burning.

I tried another recipe, boiling the milk on a stove before adding the oats, but the milk wouldn't boil before it started burning, and I ended up with an even worse disaster.

I watched numerous videos from countries all over the world about the simple act of how to boil milk, the key that seemed to be eluding me. I tried a chilled saucepan lined with a small amount of water at the bottom. I tried using many other options, some of which were actually good enough for my own tongue to greatly enjoy, but it was not good enough for my wife. Her got tongue could still sense the burnt traces of the milk and oats that had gotten too much heat too quickly.

After enough experimentation, the morning of my final attempt arrived.

My alarm went off at 2:00 AM, and I got out of bed. I went into the kitchen, mixed the milk and steel-cut oats in the saucepan, and heated them together.

g_e_n_t_l_y

I cooked the oats in milk like I was giving a warm bath to a beloved newborn kitten. I stood over the pan like a doting parent, unwilling to take my eyes off my dear child. I stirred gently and constantly for three hours. My arm became a bit sore, but I pushed through, knowing that this would be my best shot. The gentle aroma began to waft up, and my spoon started moving more slowly. Was it just my sore arm, or was the mixture truly thickening? It was thickening! The oats had finally soaked through! They were absorbing the milk. Just at the perfect moment in this process, my wife walked into the kitchen, and I smiled, knowing my finest hour was at hand.

I poured her a generous bowl of steel cut oats cooked gently in milk.

"Dig in."

(Oagariyo!)

She blew gently on her first spoonful and tasted it.

Now, her clothes didn't immediately fly off, of course, but let me tell you about this creation. The starch of the oats had thoroughly leeched out into the milk, dissolving and increasing the viscosity of the milk itself, into a more substantial fluid. Meanwhile, the milk had soaked deeply into the oats without completely destroying them. The outer majority of each individual piece of each grain was a pillow of starch, given life by the creamy milk in which it had bathed all morning. Each pillow of grain concealed at its very core a tiny, chewy little kernel giving each bite the little rough, nutty, toothsome texture that makes steel-cut oats unique. In addition, much of the excess moisture from the milk had evaporated over the course of the cooking, leaving the 100% natural sweetness of the milk to intensify as it perfused every mote of the oats.

And not the slightest hint existed of burned milk or oats.

Sweet, soft, warm, and wholesome. This dish had no toppings whatsoever. It had only two, humble ingredients: oats and milk, and I can say, without qualification or exaggeration, that it was the best bowl of oats that I have ever touched in my life.

My wife called the dish "delicious". I only wish that I had been wearing a bandana at that moment so that I could pull it off and shout "Osomatsu!" (Glad you liked it!)