• overnight baked oatmeal

    When we were in Pennsylvania, Amber served us baked oatmeal for breakfast. She’d mixed it up the evening before, after we’d cleaned up from the birthday dinner, stirring together oats and sugar, milk and eggs. She divided the batter between two pans and then grabbed a bag of blueberries from the freezer and, sprinkling out a generous amount, covered the tops of the cakes completely. The she slipped the pans into the cold oven and set it for delayed bake.

    I was fascinated. The batter didn’t sour overnight? Would the blueberries sink in? What else did she use her delay bake for? Did the oven turn off automatically? Had she ever burned anything? And so on.

    The baked oatmeals were delicious. Their overnight rest had softened and plumped the oats, and the cakes baked up high, the blueberries capping the cake with juicy sweetness.

    Back home, my husband and I studied the oven manual, trying to figure out the fancy settings. We first set the clock and then the delay bake, and then we stood there, waiting for the oven to whoosh on at the appointed time — I certainly didn’t want to burn the house down while we slept. Satisfied that all was in working order, I mixed up a batch of Amber’s baked oatmeal and popped it in the oven.

    The next morning, I was still in bed when I heard the oven peep that it was at temperature. Soon after, the smell of baking oats wafted up the stairs. By the time I walked into the kitchen, breakfast was five minutes from being done.

    While similar to my standard recipe, Amber’s is a little less sweet and more cake-like, thanks to the overnight soak. In my recipe — a fast mix-and-bake affair — the oats rise to the top a little, leaving a thin custardy layer of buttery egg on the bottom. I liked that sweet layer, but the children did not. Amber’s recipe, now, they much prefered.

    “It’s way better, Mom,” my older son said. “Way better.”

    I agree.

    Also, delay bake is awesome and I love my oven.
    The end.


    Overnight Baked Oatmeal 
    Adapted from Amber’s recipe.

    The first time I made this, I used rolled oats, but then I discovered a sack of quick cooking steel cut oats — they looked very similar to Amber’s hand-rolled oats — and snatched them right up. It’s funny though — Amber fusses about her hand-rolled oats. She thinks they make her granola and baked oatmeal too chewy. But the chewiness is exactly what we love! Do what you want: For a more nubbly, nutty baked oatmeal, use the Costco fancy cut oats, or regular rolled oats, and for a cakier baked oatmeal, use quick oats. Either way, it will be delicious.

    Amber uses a scale to measure her oil — just plops the mixing bowl on the scales, tares it, and then glug-glugs in the oil — so she doesn’t have to dirty a measuring cup.

    4½ cups rolled oats
    ¾ cup sugar
    1 tablespoon baking powder
    1 teaspoon cinnamon
    1¼ teaspoon salt
    3 eggs
    1½ cups milk
    6 tablespoons (75 grams) oil
    ¾ cup (200 grams) applesauce
    2 cups frozen blueberries, optional

    Stir together the dry ingredients and mix in the wet (except for the blueberries). Pour the batter into a buttered 9×12-inch pan. Sprinkle the blueberries on top — I lightly stirred them into the top layer of batter, but Amber did not.

    Let the pan sit on the counter, or in a cold oven, at room temperature overnight. In the morning, bake for 30 minutes (40 minutes, if using delay bake) at 350 degrees.

    Serve warm, with milk. (Or, ignore the coffee shop’s “no outside food or drink” sign and eat cold, out of a tupperware box, breaking off bite-sized pieces and shoveling them into your mouth when no one is looking, shh.)

    This same time, years previous: a new routine, the quotidian (1.23.17), and so it begins, hobo beans, rocks in my granola and other tales, polenta and greens, chuck roast braised in red wine.

  • the quotidian (1.21.19)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace
    These days, all things Southern, both readin’ and cookin’.
    The twelve-year-old cooks.
    The box looks boring and cheap; the chocolates are anything but.
    Have you tried them?
    Last breakfast.
    Empty.
    A gift from Glorimar: both candle AND hand lotion.
    Bad dog!

    In my mother’s kitchen.
    (What you don’t see: the sweet, sweet baby I’m holding.)

    Oh wait  here you go! See? So sweet.

    Rigged.
    Photo Credit: Younger Daughter
    Have a great week!

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (1.22.18), the women’s march on Washington, lemon cream cake, lazy stuffed cabbage rolls, cream cheese dip, world’s best pancakes.

  • salad dressing: a basic formula

    Back when we celebrated my older son’s birthday, I made a giant salad to go with his requested timpano. Instead of serving the greens and passing the Ranch as I normally do, I decided to dress the salad ahead of time. I’d read about a dressing recipe — more a formula than a recipe, really — on Cup of Jo and wanted to give it a go.

    This was risky. I’d bought one of those huge boxes of mixed salad greens from Costco, and dressing the leaves ahead of time would mean that any leftovers would need to be thrown out. Would we be able to eat the whole thing? What if no one liked the dressing?

    In the end, I decided to go for it. And it’s a good thing I did, too! The entire salad got gobbled. My mother couldn’t stop raving about it.

    Since then, I’ve made the salad — and its dressing — numerous times. It’s a hit with some people. Others, preferring their beloved Ranch, just tolerate it. But even that — tolerance — I consider a win.



    Salad Dressing: A Basic Formula

    The basic “recipe” called for 1 to 2 cloves garlic, but I prefer a more moderate amount. Do what you want.

    Also, I recently splurged on a bottle of good quality olive oil and the flavor was different from the regular (still good quality) stuff I buy in bulk. I’m pretty sure it’s the fancy oil — peppery and rich — that make the whole thing so delicious.

    ALSO also, the recipe calls for champagne vinegar, but since I can’t find that in my regular grocery haunts, I just used regular white wine vinegar.

    juice from ½ lemon
    ½ clove of garlic, minced fine, or mashed
    a generous pour of good olive oil, maybe ½ cup
    some white wine vinegar (1-2 tablespoons)
    a squirt of mustard (½ teaspoon?)
    a plop of mayonnaise (1 tablespoon?)
    salt and plenty of black pepper

    Whisk well, or put in a pint jar and shake the hell out of it. Taste and correct seasonings by adding more lemon (or vinegar) and salt, as needed.

    Leafy Green Salad: Heap a bowl with mixed salad greens, picked over. Right before serving, toss the leaves with dressing and sprinkle with a generous handfuls of craisins, feta, and candied nuts.

    Candied Nuts: Melt 1-2 tablespoons of butter in a cast-iron skillet Add ½ cup pecans, or walnuts, and several tablespoons of sugar. Toast, stirring frequently, until the sugar is caramelized and the nuts are a couple shades darker. Transfer the nuts to a plate to cool and sprinkle with plenty of flaky salt. Before adding the nuts to the salad, rough-chop.

    This same time, years previous: homemade grainy mustard, the quotidian (1.18.16), just do it, the good and the bad, vanilla cream cheese braids, quick fruit cobbler, peanut noodles.