Breakfast

This morning I woke up knowing exactly what I wanted for breakfast. I wanted real (not instant) oatmeal from our local restaurant. Jordan and I had it last Sunday and now I may be hooked. You know what they say about breakfast; a day without breakfast is like a day without sunshine. Or something.


Today's oatmeal was special. We got lucky because we were seated in Terri's section. When we ordered I asked if we could have our oatmeal before the rest of the food was ready. --Oatmeal really is better hot, but so are eggs, hence the conundrum. Terri totally understood. She asked if we wanted brown sugar (yes), cream (yes), and butter. This was the second time someone offered butter with oatmeal. I'd never heard of it (before last week). So, I confessed that I've never had butter in my oatmeal. I don't get it. Do you put it in the oatmeal instead of cream and sugar? Sort of like hot tea is either with cream or with lemon. Terri was great. She totally recommends a little butter and real cream. She's from Vermont, she tells us. Maybe that's why I'd never heard of the butter in oatmeal before. Maybe it's something you do in the Northeast.

Okay, here's the thing, I used a little butter, and then I poured in the cream. It was cream, not milk, and it was beautiful. I don't know if it was the butter or the cream, but when I put in just a little brown sugar it was heaven in a bowl.

What a great way to start our day. Something so cozy and sweet. We are ready to usher in cooler weather. School starts soon, which makes me think (if not feel) like Autumn is upon us. Cooler weather calls for warm cereal, hot coffee, and bulky socks.

The oatmeal has come back to my thoughts throughout the day. Flashes of memories have filled my heart.

One of my friends' grandfather was known to like his oatmeal cold. I learned the story during the summer I spent with her and her family. We traveled from NC to Nova Scotia, stopping in PA to pick up Uncle Bill (brother to said grandfather). We'd split up for breakfast and met back at the van to continue the trip. Uncle Bill told us he had oatmeal at the diner counter down the street.

Cashier: "How was everything?"
Uncle Bill: "My brother would have loved that oatmeal!"
Cashier: "Oh, I'm glad you liked it."
Uncle Bill: "I didn't like it. My brother would have liked it. He likes his oatmeal stone cold."

Bam! They had just been schooled.

In case you are curious (like I was), when he was a boy, grandfather defiantly refused to eat his oatmeal because he didn't like it. His mother wasn't having it. When the next meal time came, grandfather was presented with the bowl of oatmeal that he had not eaten that morning. He was stubborn and wouldn't eat it. But at some point (I don't know how many meals), grandfather ate the cold oatmeal. The next morning he was served hot oatmeal, like his brother. Grandfather again refused to eat it. So, the oatmeal waited and was represented each meal until Grandfather ate. This happened enough times that grandfather grew to like cold oatmeal.

Uncle Bill tells that story twice. Once in the van when I was too curious to wait and the second time when he told his brother about the diner encounter. It was Uncle Bill's tribute to his brother's stubbornness. There seemed to be a bit of admiration there.

I loved, loved that summer!

Hope your weekend is great!

~Kimberly

p.s. Have you ever had butter in your oatmeal?