I am a loyalist when it comes to breakfast. I will fixate on a theme and eat it steadily until I can’t look at it anymore. For the past several months, breakfast has involved chocolate - a pain au chocolat from Bien Cuit or a slice of chocolate babka (over five batches in and closing in on something that is taster approved). I have also gone through weeks in which I woke up to crack an egg over rice and more abstemious streaks in which I downed a protein shake spiked with matcha powder.
These days though, I have been turning more and more to oatmeal for a more satiating start, perhaps not least because it is too cold to face a walk to the bakery and I don’t always have leftover rice on hand. Rolled oats need no time and no preparation: they cook in under three minutes on an aggressive flame. I suppose one could swirl chocolate into their oatmeal, but sweet grains have always made me cringe. Chocolate rice pudding, cinnamon-topped kugels, and even the intact rice grains that are surrounded by azuki paste as an ohagi are no-go zones for my palate.
A bowl of rolled oats seasoned with miso and scallions; topped with furikake
Most days, I prepare 1/2 cup (50 grams) of oats in a small (mine is 2l) stainless steel pot with a generous splash of water as I prefer my oats rather soupy, like an instant okayu (a Japanese congee that is made simply with just grains of rice and water)1. I pour the completely unseasoned oats into a bowl and top with whatever I have that I would serve over the rice that I have been too lazy to prepare. This often means a pile of kimchi, a gooey spoonful of natto, and some little fish (chirimen sansho - small fish seasoned with sansho, a type of floral peppercorn). As an added bonus, a soupier oatmeal is much easier to clean out of the pot.
Maybe you don’t stock your fridge with kimchi, natto, and little fish. I don’t always have them on hand either. I often prepare another version that is made with my pantry staples: alliums, eggs, and miso. This is a quick version of ojiya - a catch-all term for a dish in which leftover rice is added to the remnants of a soup or broth. This dish is a double-win, with the grains of rice capturing the flavors of the broth. My family often finishes ojiya with an egg for richness, much like the final addition of parmesan and butter to a risotto. While any dish with broth would be repurposed as ojiya, my favorite was always the ojiya my mother, Michiko, made from the remnants of her miso soup.
An example of ojiya - rice cooked again in leftover broth.
White miso, scallions, and wakame
To your simmering pot of oats, scissor in one scallion (or thinly slice some onion). Simmer until the oats are soft. If you have some wakame seaweed2, add for its saline bite. If not, kill the heat and add a tablespoon of miso (I like white miso here) and top with one egg. Top the pot with a lid and let the egg cook slightly in the heat until slightly set. Sometimes I stir the egg into the oatmeal and let it set slightly in the pot. Do as you like.
A single serving pot of oats, egg optional
As I come ever closer to emptying the bag of Bob’s Red Mill rolled oats, I suspect that my oatmeal days are numbered. So I wonder if anyone has some breakfast inspiration to share. What are your favorite ways to start the day?
While a proper okayu is made from a slow simmer of uncooked rice grains and water, I often made a quick version in which I substitute cooked rice. Okayu is classic invalid food, so if you are the person who is sick, it is easier to make the quick version. The resulting okayu will not be quick as thick, but it will still satisfy when under the weather.
This is the seaweed that is always floating in the miso soup served by fast sushi spots.