By Anne DesBrisay

With three days of exhaustive research into the best pain aux raisins in the city weighing on my conscience and my hips, I paid no morning mind to the usual things I pay mind to at my local Bridgehead. No croissant, no cheese scone, no triple berry muffin. Just coffee, thanks. No, not even a date square (how well she knows me…) despite the argument any sensible person could make about the fibre and the iron.

Still, I was hungry, and lunch a long way away.

And then I spied it: a new product? In a glass bowl, a square of porridge. Not just any oatmeal, this lump. These were steel-cut oats (also known as Irish or Scottish oats) and they came topped with either maple syrup or a fruit compote. Or…both. Done! (more…)