Comfort

It's been a while, I know.  And I won't pretend.

I've been sad.  

The loss of our beloved black Lab, Henry, last year put me in state of 'just getting through' for a while.  You know.  You go about the business of your life because that's what you do, but it's with a heavy heart.  

The joys of food and drink and company feel muted because you are just seeking comfort...a respite from the sadness.  But in an inversely strange way, it also makes me feel grateful... for the kindness of friends, the everyday joy and companionship that our dear boy gave us, and the very awesomeness of his short, wonderful life.

The term "comfort food" really has taken on a fuller meaning as I've trudged through this time.  There's been a bit of a retreat from dreaming of fancy dishes I'd like to try to a simple craving for food that nourishes in a quiet way.  Which brings me to the uncomplicated solace of a bowl of porridge.  

I have rather unpleasant memories of the oatmeal my mother would make when I was a kid.  It was a gluey, bland mush of Quaker oats that just couldn't compete with a bowl of Captain Crunch.  The 80s brought the worship of All Things Oat, which I duly ignored since I wasn't obsessed with my cholesterol levels.  But then some time in the 90s I discovered steel-cut oats in a memorable Waldorf-Astoria room service breakfast for which I am eternally grateful.  So I've been a steel-cut oat fan ever since, but not long ago I came across an ingenious recipe for 'porridge', as the English like to call their breakfast oatmeal, that puts the oats I've been making for years to shame.  (Clouds parting.  Chorus singing.  Rays of sunshine.  Applause.)

Hard to believe it comes from a cookbook called,  A Girl and Her Pig.  (Yes, there is a photo of the author, chef April Bloomfield, on the cover, draped in a dead pig.  Calm down everyone.)  

April's way with porridge is extraordinarily simple and oh so comforting.  The beauty lies in cooking a mix of rolled oats with steel-cut in half milk and half water with a generous amount of Maldon salt.  The resulting chewy, creamy texture when topped with a drizzle of maple syrup elevates things to porridge nirvana.

So for those of you in the frigid, polar-vortex'd Midwest and snow battered East, this hot breakfast will fortify you like nothing else for your next round of shoveling and for those of us who are feeling a little fragile at times it's like breakfast, with a hug.  Some days that's just what you need.

Porridge 

adapted from A Girl and Her Pig, by April Bloomfield

(serves 4, if you're restrained, or 2 hearty appetites)

1 1/2 cups milk (April says whole milk, but I used 2%), plus a few splashes

1 1/2 teaspoons Maldon or another flaky sea salt

1/2 cup stell-cut oats

1/2 cup rolled oats (no instant or quick-cooking here, go with regular oats)

About 2 tablespoons brown sugar

A drizzle of maple syrup

1.  Combine the milk, water and salt in a medium saucepan and set over high heat.  As soon as the liquid comes to a gentle simmer, add both kinds of oats and lower the heat to medium to keep the oats at a steady simmer.  Stir frequently and check the heat to maintain the simmer, for 20 minutes.

2.  After the 20 minutes, turn off the heat and stir in the brown sugar.  

3.  Spoon into bowls and let sit for a minute.  Drizzle with a little maple syrup.  That's where I finish and get ready to dig in, but April suggests carefully pouring a little cold milk around the edge of each bowl for little more of custard feel as the porridge sets near the cold milk.  

       

Summer by the Spoonful

Wouldn't you know it?  I come across a stellar recipe for cherry tomatoes and this is the year that I didn't get around to planting cherry tomato plants. Aaaaggghhh...
No matter!  Not having an excess of my own, home-grown cherry tomatoes is not going to stop me from making this super tasty tomato vinaigrette concoction weekly, nor should it hold you back from trying this amazingly, kicky sauce.

I stumbled across this recipe in the current issue of Bon Appetit (and what is up with that magazine?  You couldn't have paid me to even look at it for years, and with the last few issues--all picked up at the airport magazine stand--I am delighted!  Who knew?!)  I made a batch of what they call Cherry Tomato Vinaigrette, for last weekend's 4th of July festivities, as an option to top the burgers and it was a huge hit.  A friend said we should all say goodbye to ketchup and I agreed, especially the next morning as I spooned the last bit leftover from the party on my scrambled eggs.  Must make more was all I kept thinking.

There's nothing complicated here -- a pint of cherry tomatoes goes into some gently sauteed shallots in olive oil.  You let the tomatoes cook down a little so they can release their juices and then use a wooden spoon to mash the whole ones up a bit.  Off the heat, stir in some red wine vinegar (I used an extra splash because I love things a little more vinegary), a little more olive oil, salt, pepper and some freshly snipped chives and you have achieved summer tomato nirvana.

It's tempting to simply stand over the pot and eat the entire batch while standing by the stove, but exercise restraint!  This is a summer elixir which will elevate whatever you want to put it on.  The aforementioned burger is a great idea, or some scrambled eggs...anything you can put avocado on actually.  Last night it was outstanding over simply roasted fish.  Up next, I intend to try it over those lovely little ricotta cakes I've mentioned before.   What can't this humble sauce do?!

I've become quite the evangelist with this recipe, spending most of last week trying to convince everyone in my immediate orbit that they must go home and make this immediately.  And, you'll be happy to know that those who have, agree that it's the very essence of summer.  Best part is, you don't need to have a backyard bounty of your own to try it.  Happy summer!


Cherry Tomato Vinaigrette adapted from Bon Appetit magazine
(makes about 1 1/2 cups)

1 pint cherry tomatoes (a mix of Sungold and Super 100s looks beautiful)
3 Tbsp. olive oil, divided
1 shallot, finely chopped
1 Tbsp. plus a splash more, red wine vinegar
pinch of kosher salt, freshly ground pepper
2 Tbsp. chopped fresh chives


1.  Separate half of the tomatoes and cut in half. (Yes, I know...kind of a pain).  Leave the remaining cherry tomatoes whole.
2.  Heat 1 tbsp. of olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat.  Add shallot and cook, stirring regularly, until softened, about 3-4 minutes.
3.  Add all the tomatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, until they begin to release their juices, 4-6 minutes.  WARNING:  the aroma is intoxicating!!
4.  Mash some of the whole tomatoes in the mixture with the side of a wooden spoon and add the red wine vinegar, salt & pepper and remaining 2 tbsp. of olive oil.  (Less if you'd like the sauce thicker.)   Taste for seasoning, it may need a bit more salt.

5.  Stir in the chopped chives right before serving.

This can sit at room temperature for hours or make ahead and chill, bringing it back to room temperature when ready to serve.