Whenever I eat oatmeal I think of horses. I loved them passionately with all the love a girl can hold in her heart, and read many a tome about them (when I finally went to Assateague Island, I felt as though I’d already been there because I’d read all of Margeurite Henry’s books). I wanted a horse of my very own but my parents (perhaps wisely?) nixed that idea and instead I was given a kitten. The wish faded over the years, but from time to time I still wonder if I’ll have ever the space and time to take one on …
So when I eat oatmeal I think of horses, and early-morning stables shrouded in fog, the dusty smell of hay permeating the air, horses nickering softly over their stall doors waiting for breakfast. On grey, chilly days, oatmeal is just the thing.
Today I got up early and went for a run in the park, and it seemed as though it had rained in the night, the path was so wet. This is San Francisco in the summer, and I am still not quite used to it. But for my post-run meal all I could think about was a bowl of oatmeal — for it also reminds me of Scotland, and today was a very highland-morning with all the mist and damp.
Boil one cup water. Add a pinch of salt and 1/2-cup oats. Cook for about 5 minutes. Add: soy milk and a tablespoon of peanut butter and mix.
I also had a cup of tea, of course.