Oatmeal: Breakfast of Controversy

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who love oatmeal, and those who think it's positively disgusting.

I mean, it's not embryonic stem cell research or anything, but bring up oatmeal in a public forum and you will surely see that there are strong opinions on either side. The folks who are for oatmeal believe it's wholesome and cheap and lowers your cholesterol. (Unless you don't have a television, you've probably heard this too.) The folks who are against it say it has the texture of glue, the taste of nothing, and the appearance of you-know-what.

I guess there are a few people in the middle. I have a friend who says she loves the idea of oatmeal. She wants to like oatmeal. She thinks it looks delicious. But the texture frightens her, and she can't bring herself to try it. Hers is a fantasy oatmeal experience.

I used to be one of those fence straddlers, until about six months ago, when I got the following recipe from Weight Watchers, of all places. It used to help me lose weight, which is why I'm telling you about it on Works For Me Wednesday. Now I love it so much I'm afraid I need to put it on the same list as homemade chocolate chip cookies and hummus with pita chips.

Now brace yourself -- the name may not be particularly persuasive. But I promise the taste will make you a believer. So here goes.

CUSTARD OATMEAL

For one serving, mix 1 cup milk and 1/2 cup of quick oatmeal in a saucepan. Add salt (I THINK THIS IS WHERE MANY PEOPLE GO WRONG WITH OATMEAL, AND WHY THEY SAY IT'S TASTELESS.) For one serving, I'd add 1/4 teaspoon. Stir in vanilla to taste. I like LOTS of vanilla -- like maybe 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons for one serving.

Start cooking this according to the package directions, which means in a little over a minute, it will be done.

"But wait," you say. "What's custard about this?"

Geez ... keep your pants on!!! I'm getting there.

To make this custard oatmeal, beat one egg (or three egg whites if you avoid yolks) in a bowl until it's all mixed up. Then plop a few blobs of oatmeal into the egg, and mix it up well. That gets your eggs warm so they won't scramble. Then plop the egg-oatmeal stuff back into the pot, stir it until the egg seems cooked, and take it off the heat. This is when I sweeten it -- for me, about 1 1/3 packets of Splenda is plenty.

That's it. You're getting dessert for breakfast, and you can even call it healthy with a straight face. You may thank me now.

Of course, lilies can always be gilded, and my favorite improvement is banana. For one serving, cut up about a half a banana in slices and smush them up in the milk before you stir in the oatmeal. This takes incredibly delicious everyday custard oatmeal to new heights of nirvana-iciousness. (To me, it's even better if you save some of the banana custard oatmeal and chill it to eat mid-afternoon for a snack. I realize that may be taking the oatmeal thing a bit far for some of you though.)

If you want to make it healthier, you can put other fruit on top, or you could make it with old-fashioned oatmeal (you'd just have to cook it the five minutes like the directions say before you mix in the egg).

If you don't like this, there's no hope for you, oatmeal-wise. But I'm sure you have many other lovely qualities.

How Not to Lose a Car

It's Works for Me Wednesday over at Rocks in My Dryer, and have I got a tip for you. I have so little good advice that I can't participate every Wednesday, or else I'd exhaust my supply. But I'm so excited about this one that I couldn't wait any longer.

I am a Momnesiac. Once upon a time, I had a fabulous memory -- at least that's the way I remember it. But then my children were born, and my to-do lists got much longer, and my attention got pulled 32,019 different ways, and the next thing I knew every last gigabyte in my personal hard drive was full. My files began to be corrupted, and I couldn't remember whatshisname's name or what happened in the movie I saw last weekend or whether it was All the King's Men or All the President's Men I had read back in high school.

Or where I'd parked my car.

This last one was particularly vexing. I've come to depend on my car quite a lot, actually -- not as much as my lungs, perhaps, but way more than my vacuum. Leaving a store and spending the next 18 minutes traipsing back in forth through a parking lot pushing the panic button on my key chain was starting to really get me down.

And then one day I pulled into the parking lot at our brand-new Publix. Because I'm a poor planner, I go to the grocery several times each week. Every single one of those times I park. And on that auspicious day, a thought came to me: What If I Always Parked on the Same Row?

What a beautifully simple idea! I know now that no matter what -- summer, winter, rain, shine, just-a-gallon-of-milk or Thanksgiving-dinner-for-12 -- my car will be parked at the back end of the center row in Publix's parking lot. I don't even have to think about it, and as if it were on auto-pilot, my cart and I find my car instantly.

If I insisted on parking right next to the building, this plan might not work. But I don't. I'd much rather settle for a distant spot on the same row each visit than an up-close one on any random row. Besides, it's exercise.

If you've spent more time than you care to admit wandering around looking for a lost car, try this idea. It Works for Me!