The karate kid

When I was a kid, I took karate lessons under a dude we called Tito Germs (he was a friend’s uncle, I think). We all wanted to be Jackie Chan in those days, which was after we got over wanting to be Niño Muhlach. But that’s not why I remember that episode. In fact, all it achieved was to cement my hatred for milk, especially in conjunction with a cereal called wheat germ. It was what Germs prescribed for his students (we had yet to hear of Milo then), and I still gag every time I recall that gruel.

The breakfasts of my childhood were tense, joyless affairs. My father was of the opinion that you did not get someone to like something by forcing it down his throat. Ma was immune to such epiphanies as she was to tears. She was heartless. Somehow things came to a head one day and Pa had to assert the patriarchy. Ma backed off; milk was out. And then Tito Germs skipped town without so much as a by-your-leave and was never heard from again. There was a God after all.

Was it that bad? Wheat germ, in hindsight, not so much. I like cereal. Just keep the milk away from my bowl of cornflakes. (You know what? Cornflakes go really well with ice cream or gelato. Now there’s milk I can live with.)

Oatmeal is more challenging. I should be embracing oatmeal. And I’ve tried, believe me. It’s supposed to lower cholesterol, protect against heart disease, and stabilize blood sugar. It’s also mushy (in porridge), mealy (in cookies), and generally unappealing (in everything, really). Which was why I had no high hopes for this Mexican pudding recipe. In fact, I was not hoping for anything at all. I was only looking to get rid of the last few packs of instant oatmeal left over from my attempt at chocolate caramel oatmeal bars.

Also, it looked easy. And it was. Mix ⅓ cup oats, 2 tablespoons cocoa powder (I only had dark chocolate chips and I put in a lot), and a pinch each of cinnamon, cayenne, grated ginger (I used powdered turmeric), and salt with equal parts (½ cup) milk and water, stir over low-medium heat, about 5-7 minutes, then add a pat of butter and two beaten egg whites and stir some more until thick. (I omitted sugar as the oatmeal was pre-sweetened.)

The result? Spicy champorado. Ha-ha. Rice would have made for better texture, but that’s beside the point. The oatmeal had disintegrated — whether from extended cooking or due to its being the instant kind, I couldn’t say. Maybe both. In any case, goop it was.

Am I making this sound like it’s a bad thing? If you’re into this sort of stuff, by all means go for it; there has to be a reason Quaker is doing brisk business other than oatmeal being healthy. With people like me, they have to be a bit more creative. As it turned out, there was a last, optional step to the recipe which required nothing more than to nuke the goop (sorry, there’s no getting around that) and I was supposed to get an oatmeal brownie. Now I was hopeful. I spooned the mixture into ramekins and stuck them in the microwave for a minute.

What brownie, though? They were dry, all right, which is how I like my brownies. But brownies they sure weren’t, not by any stretch of the imagination (and that I have plenty of). They were the consistency of rice cakes. I’m not a fan of those, either.

And then I spied a bottle of Hershey’s chocolate shell topping sitting on a shelf. I love that stuff. You drizzle it on ice cream and it freezes in a jiffy, giving you crunchy bits of creamy chocolate. Yes — I’m that easy to please. But you can’t deny the chocolate shell is darned impressive. On a lark (and figuring I had nothing to lose), I poured some on top of the wannabe-brownies and let them chill in the fridge.

Forrest Gump had it figured out. You just keep reaching into the box of chocolates. Most of the time you may get a Goya, but there’s always a chance you’ll hit upon a Godiva — or at least a Meiji (dark, preferably). This was closer to a Serg’s (I’m old so you’ll have to excuse that dated reference). Chilled, the nuked oatmeal mixture assumed the taste and texture of dense mousse (and looked it too). One less discerning would think it was mousse, if on the pasty side. I’m not suggesting you can be so easily taken, of course. That’s why I’m counting on the choco shell for that initial wow. In martial arts it’s what’s called a misdirection. Seems I have learned something from Tito Germs after all.