The sound of the perfectly sliced grains pouring into the bowl transported me to an evening that is long gone. We were sitting on the balcony, rain pattering on the tin roof above us. Isn’t it nice, when the falling drops keep the summer flies away? The damp was making the dust on the tiles stick to our skin. You know that powder-fine dust that collects at the bottom of the box? When I was making my very last bowl of oats, its texture was more like a muddy paste than food. When we left the cover of the verandah, the rain made our skin a muddy paste, and it was glorious.

I loved eating this for breakfast every morning until I ran out! The different grains such as rye and quinoa added a different texture and taste that I enjoyed.