overnight sensation

I have always liked oatmeal. Yeah, I know… most kids didn’t. Most kids were forced to eat oatmeal. “Eat it!,” Mother would jeer through clenched teeth, “It’s good for you!” Well, that’s all a kid needed to hear… that something was good for them! They would instantly balk and frown and turn their noses up at it. But not me. I liked oatmeal and I remember that my mom cooked it – yes! actually, cooked it in a pot on the stove – on random weekend mornings. 

Comedian Shelley Berman did a routine about finding a black speck of something in a glass of milk. In this particular routine, he alluded to oatmeal just being comprised entirely of black specks, therefore he avoided it. Character actor Jack Gilford would put his trademarked “rubber face” to use in his impression of a pot of oatmeal boiling on the stove – blinking his eyes, puffing out his cheeks and opening and closing his mouth to simulate the surface activity of cooking the breakfast staple. Both of these comedy bits made me laugh, probably because I liked oatmeal… and probably because they were funny. 

 

When instant oatmeal was introduced, I was able to make it myself. I’d fill our tea kettle with water, flick on the burner. In a few minutes, the built-in whistle would alert me that the water within was boiled and ready to add to an envelope of instant oatmeal. I had breakfast and my mom was able to sleep a bit longer on a weekend morning. 

I have always enjoyed all-you-can eat buffets, especially breakfast buffets, usually experienced in a hotel lobby after a one-night stay while driving from Philadelphia to Florida. Larger, more expansive breakfast buffets were availed on the many cruises I have taken with my wife. The buffet is my favorite part of cruising, the breakfast buffet especially. The choices are nearly endless, with large platters of scrambled eggs, pancakes, waffles, hash brown potatoes, along with various meat options for the carnivores. Somewhere among the breakfast offerings is a selection of hot cereals, each in a shiny metal cylinder with a long-handled ladle at the ready. There’s always oatmeal, as well as cream of wheat (another of my favorites) and grits (a Southern corn-based specialty that I have enjoyed from time to time). I usually supplement my overly-laden breakfast plate with a bowl of oatmeal topped with a helping of brown sugar… eating it as sort of an appetizer to my cruise buffet breakfast mish-mash. 

Every so often, my dear Mrs. P will break out a pot and a cook oatmeal for the two of us, stirring up memories of when we were still kids in our respective kitchens or sailing on a giant ship in the middle of who-knows-where. 

Game changer.

If you are a regular reader of this blog (if it even has regular readers) or if you know me IRL (as the kids say), you probably are familiar with my disdain – that’s right! seething disdain! – for the overuse of the mawkish superlatives that have overrun our everyday conversation, specifically in our collective online personas. Words like “amazing” and “game-changer,” and their regular misuse, make me cringe. I have often railed against the use of the word “amazing” applied to situations that are clearly not amazing. Your kid passing a spelling test is not amazing. No one has ever prepared and consumed a grilled cheese sandwich or a piece of cake that was amazing. There has never been a movie or television show or concert or any other form of entertainment that was amazing. However, on the off-chance that there was one of these that could possibly qualify as “amazing,” chances are you didn’t see it and you didn’t witness eight of them… in the same week. Sure, there have been good food and good movies and good performances in academics, but “amazing?” Come on… Organ transplants are amazing. Discovering a cure for polio is amazing. Sending astronauts to work and live on a space station floating somewhere way up in the sky is amazing. The fiftieth steak that some French guy cooked in a restaurant…. Amazing? Really?

Do you want to know what a “game-changer” is? The shot clock in basketball. In 2018, the NBA implemented the 24-second shot clock and that changed the game. In 2022, Major League baseball decided, in an effort to speed up boring baseball games, to start each half-extra inning, after the regulation nine have been played to a tie score, with an automatic runner in scoring position on second base. Just this season, a regimented pitch clock has been installed to force pitchers to stop fucking around on the mound and throw the goddamn ball already. Those are game changers. You know what’s not a “game-changer?” Putting salt on caramel or adding a rinse aid to your dishwasher. 

I’m not sure when I first heard about it, but I have become aware of a thing called “overnight oats.” Now, I don’t profess to be a chef of any sorts, but the concept of “overnight oats” sounded pretty simple. Just follow the recommended quantities for cooking oatmeal, but instead of combining everything in a pot on the stove, you just mix it all up in a bowl, cover it and stick it in the refrigerator for – guess how long? That’s correct! Overnight! When you wake up, you can be treated to a healthy, filling nutritious breakfast… that is, if you don’t mind cold oatmeal. (Some recipes do suggest heating the concoction up in the microwave, but the general consensus of folks who have jumped on the “overnight oats” train eat it cold.) 

I have seen a number of online posts singing the praises of overnight oats. People have labeled overnight oats “game changers” and “amazing.” Closer to real life, one of the more vocal advocates of overnight oats is my brother-in-law (no, not that one, the other one). A self-proclaimed authority on pretty much everything, he has been making overnight oats for quite some time. He has told Mrs. Pincus (his sister) how “amazing” overnight oats are and how she and I should try its magical properties ourselves. He has not recommended this to me directly since I have not personally spoken a word to him in over a decade. (And that, my friend, is a story for another blog post!) Nevertheless, always looking for another option for breakfast, I decided to give overnight oats a shot. 

...and liddle lamzy divey

On a recent Sunday evening, I prepared a lidded Tupperware bowl with a cup of dry oats, a cup of almond milk and the amount of brown sugar I would normally add to a bowl of hot oatmeal. I thoroughly mixed the ingredients together and snapped the lid shut. I found a little spot in the refrigerator in which the mixture could congeal or ferment or do whatever it is that takes place over eight hours in cold confines. A few recipes proposed adding peanut butter, jelly, nuts, chia seeds (ch-ch-ch-CHIA!) or other enhancements, but I stuck with what I was used to for my initial run. I closed the refrigerator door. Technically, I was cooking. 

My alarm went off on Monday morning and I hopped out of bed at 5:30 with the start of another work week ahead of me. I went downstairs to the kitchen and flicked on the Keurig coffee maker. But, instead of removing a bowl from the cabinet above the sink and filling it with Honey Nut Cheerios like I have done a zillion times before, I went to the refrigerator to get, what I anticipated would be, a brand-new revelation in breakfast at the Pincus house. 

The bowl was right where I left it, on the shelf in the refrigerator. I popped open the lid. No elves had come to dance and sprinkle their magic. No visible chemical reaction had taken place. The oatmeal appeared to be oatmeal. Cold, but still oatmeal. I made a cup of coffee and took my breakfast upstairs to watch the remaining minutes of a fifty-plus year old episode of Dragnet and an older one of My Three Sons before leaving for work. 

Before scooping up the inaugural first taste, I stirred the thick mélange to reincorporate the components. I dunked my spoon below the lumpy surface and brought up a generous helping of overnight oats… and into my mouth it went. 

It was cold. 

 

And bland. 

And it had a weird texture and, to steal a phrase from many a program on The Food Network, it had an unappealing mouth feel. 

It tasted like cold oatmeal. Like oatmeal I had made and forgotten about. 

A dramatization.

Mrs. Pincus always says that I’m a “good sport.” I will do things I don’t really care to do. I will go to places I don’t really care to go to and I will eat things I don’t really care to eat. And I will not complain about it. Well…. Maybe I’ll complain about it a little. (Does writing a lengthy blog count as a “complaint?”) I ate the entire bowl of overnight oats. It was not good. I did not enjoy it. I ate it knowing that it would not be the last meal I would ever eat. With each bite, I swigged some coffee to mask the unpleasant taste until the bowl was empty. 

On Tuesday, I had a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast. Overnight oats will not darken my refrigerator ever again. 

My game was not changed, nor was I amazed. 

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

everything is awesome

I went to a concert. It was amazing! It was the greatest performance I have ever seen! All the songs were incredible! The band is the greatest band that was ever formed. The original members were the most amazing musicians until the ones that left the band were replaced by even more amazing performers. Of course, I don't play an instrument myself and I have absolutely no qualifications to make such a definitive statement, but they are the most amazing guitarists, bassists, keyboardists and drummers that have ever graced a stage or recorded a song. They make the most amazing music and all of their songs are perfect. This show was the most amazing show I have ever seen since the last amazing show I saw which, coincidentally, was the actual last show I saw.

I ate in a restaurant. The meal I had was life-changing. Upon the first bite I took, my life actually changed. I believe that just after my salad arrived and that first mouthful of lettuce and dressing was going around in my head, my life was changing. When the main course was brought to our table, I couldn't imagine that my life could change anymore, but, surprisingly, it did. And it was amazing. And my life changed again while I savored.... whatever it was I ordered. I think it was salmon. Yeah! That's it! It was life-changing salmon! And it, indeed, changed my life. The peas that were served with the salmon were life-changing as well. As I consumed each individual pea, my life continued to change. It was the greatest, most amazing meal I ever had... since the last life-changing meal I had.... which, I believe, was on Wednesday. You should go to this restaurant, because I said you should and it will change your life.

I went on a trip to a place that was amazing. Everything we saw was amazing. Everything we did was amazing. Everything we ate was amazing. And life-changing. And incredible. And awesome. And the greatest experience. We will never forget it and remember it forever. Just like that time we went to.... to... well, where ever it was, I will remember it forever. Because it changed my life and it was amazing.

Once I saw a thing that was amazing. After that I did something that was life-changing. These things were awesome and perfect and you should do them because — trust me — your life needs changing. Oh, and it's incredible... and amazing. I saw more things that were amazing and I did more things that were also amazing. That's just amazing. 

Wasn't this post amazing? It changed your life, didn't it? Although I don't know you very well and I don't really know what you like and dislike, I think you should read this post again because I like it and everyone likes what I like. Isn't that amazing? 

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

amazing grace

In this post, I revisit a previous rant, because it keeps coming up. Thank you for your indulgence. — JPiC

We made plans to meet my brother-in-law* and his family for dinner. The chosen restaurant was a small independent Italian place not too far from their home. Mrs. P and I arrived a good fifteen minutes before I saw their car pull into the tiny parking lot. (That, in itself, was a rarity.) While we waited, we perused the surroundings, taking in the atmosphere, as it was our first time there.

The small, boxy building was obviously something else before it was re-purposed as a restaurant. A row of tables lined the front of the building whose wall was a large, multi-pane, picture window. On the other side of a narrow aisle was a diner-like, low counter sporting old-fashioned swivel stools, with wait service from the open kitchen across the sparkling white Formica. In the corner, situated near the cashier, was an imposing coal-fired oven, its glowing embers visible through the brick-lined, semi-circular opening. A stocky fellow, with a bandanna knotted around his perspiring head, shoveled pizza after hand-prepared pizza into the fiery depths of the oven, carefully monitoring the quick cooking time and withdrawing perfectly-browned pies for eager (and hungry) customers. A glass-sided case displayed the many exotic, gourmet pizza offerings. 

Mrs. P and I marveled at the wide array of selections — both the meat and meat-free varieties — all made from various combinations of over two dozen available toppings. They were colorful specimens, decked out in brightly-hued peppers, onions, tomatoes and other assorted vegetables. Others were chock full of huge hunks of sausage, large disks of pepperoni and big globs of ricotta cheese. Each one was an edible work of art, beautifully presented and each more appetizing than the last.

Soon, we were joined by our familial dinner companions, who were equally as surprised that we beat them to our destination. (Obviously, we have gained ourselves a reputation in the "tardy" department.) While we waited for a recently-vacated table to be cleared and cleaned, my brother-in-law began to extol the virtues of this establishment, as he and his family are frequent patrons. 

"The pizza here is amazing." he avowed.

Ugh! There's that word again. "Amazing!" Oh, how I have come to loathe that word. Well, not so much the word itself, but the over-usage and application to everyday, decidedly non-amazing things. I don't know when it started, but "amazing" has become the go-to standard description for anything that is not horrible. And I mean anything. And it has gotten out of hand. Listen for it everyday. People describe everything from their children to a movie to a piece of fish as "amazing." Merriam-Webster defines "amazing" as "causing amazement, great wonder, or surprise." Now, is that an accurate description of a lump of ground beef on a bun? Or your kid bringing home a gold star on a third-grade math test that thirty other kids in the class and hundred other kids in the school took? Does that really evoke "great wonder or surprise?" Amazing? Really? Y'know, if everything is amazing, then nothing is amazing.

I grimaced at my brother-in-law's assessment of the pizza. I told him that I rarely find that any situation begs for the word "amazing" as a suitable description and I have never ever used it in reference to food. I like food. I like food a lot, but I have never had any food that I would classify as "amazing." You can add "life-changing" and "to die for," as well. Food is "good." Sometimes it's "very good," even "excellent," but never — and I mean never — amazing.

Amazing.

"You know what's 'amazing'?," I told him, "The story of Zion Harvey. That's amazing!" I related the story of Zion Harvey, an 8-year-old boy whose hands and feet were amputated after he contracted a life-threatening infection as a toddler. Little Zion underwent a grueling 10-hour operation in which doctors grafted an operational hand onto each of his wrists. He is now receiving intense daily sessions of physical therapy to strengthen his new hands and to enhance his coordination and dexterity. He is admirably brave and, at the same time, blasé about his situation. He stoically stated that he looks forward to one day holding his baby sister. That is, in every sense of the word — amazing. Does a slab of dough decorated with cheese, sauce and a few tomatoes rate in the same category as doctors guaranteeing that a courageous child receives a second chance at a normal life? I don't think so.

Not amazing.

The pizza was pretty good. Very good actually. But amazing? It was just pizza.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com



*not that one, the other one.