The Fine Men's Oats

I've long read and learnt the immense benefits of eating oats. In my attempt to ensure my kids didn't miss out on the goodness of oats, I introduced oat cakes to them when they were younger, at a time when they were a little easier to please or coax to try something new. They have learnt to enjoy them.

And yes, I have tried breakfast cereals made with oats. We love them. Especially if sugar is an accompanying ingredient in the production process. Ahem.

But I have yet managed to convince myself that I should give oat, the wholesome grain, a little more time of my day. Up till recently, oat is still not an ingredient that features in any of my menu.

However, for the sake of love, and motherly love that is, I have decided to bite the bullet and try out a big packet of rolled oats for breakfast.

Recently, I came across this quote... 

"An Englishman and a Scotsman were discussing oats. The Englishman, with his nose in the air said "In England we feed oats to our horses, and in Scotland you feed oats to your men...", to which the Scotsman replied "...that's why in England you have such fine horses and in Scotland we have such fine men!"

After introducing oat porridge to the kids a few months ago, starting with a teeny weeny bowl at first, all 3 kids now LOVE their wholesome oat breakfast which sometimes also makes appearance during the midday snack time.

I cook the rolled oats with whole milk and water, giving it a creamy texture. Olivia has her giant bowl (about 180g serving before adding fruits) on its own or with soft fruits such as grapes, pears or bananas. I sweeten the deal for the boys by drizzling some raw honey or maple syrup, served with bananas. The kids would praise me for the creation (which is by far one of the easiest things I've ever whipped up) and lick their bowls clean every time. I have tried it several times, but still find its plain look and ooey-gooey texture unappetizing, so I was always more than happy to share my serving when the kids asked for seconds.

Unfortunately, the only person who remains unconverted is the Englishman in the family. He scoffs whenever I offer him a teaspoon to try.