Cold Brown Rice

Breakfast today is cold brown rice. It's a kind of penance. And actually, it doesn't taste that bad. In an effort to get more fiber into the family diet I cooked up an enormous pot of brown rice, which turned out like mush because as we all know, instructions on the bag are no substitute for experience. It wasn't supposed to be enormous either but with the this and the that of making dinner in a household full of children sometimes it's hard to think clearly about quantities and especially when reading the instructions on the bag. Who tests these recipes anyway. You and me that's who. And there's no feed-back loop so errors are never corrected. Revisions are never published. Where is crowd sourcing in the food industry?

At any rate. No one in the family would eat the rice probably because it was brown, and mushy and at the time it was still a little crunchy when we sat down to eat. Now that it's been sitting on the counter in the rice cooker for two days, in the summer heat, it's soft and looks a lot like oatmeal. I'm eating smothered in nuts and brown sugar. Maybe this is an attempt to prove that foods like rice that have been sitting out for centuries probably won't kill you. And maybe because so many people are hungry all the time. And I'm not. Not ever. Eating old rice porridge is a celebration of my relative wealth. And a quiet wish that I could share it with people are are hungry.

Peas porridge hot.
Peas porridge cold.
Peas porridge in the pot,
Nine days old.