Carrot Cake Overnight Oats

New Year's. 2023 arrives. I make ozoni at six AM, before Miya wakes, in the dark kitchen, from memory. The kombu was soaked overnight. The dashi is heated slowly. The miso dissolves. The mochi is grilled under the broiler until it puffs and browns. The soup is poured into the chipped bowl. The bowl is held in both hands. The taste is the taste. The taste has been the taste for seven years. The taste will be the taste for the rest of my life. The taste is Fumiko. The taste is me. The taste is the practice that has become the person.

Miya woke and came into the kitchen and I served her the ozoni and she said "itadakimasu" and ate and the eating was the beginning of the year, the first meal of a new year, the meal that says: we are here. We survived. We endure. The word "endure" is the Nakamura word, the family inheritance that is not a recipe but a verb, not a dish but an action, not something you cook but something you do, every morning, every bowl, every year: you endure. You make soup. You feed the people you love. You stand in the kitchen at six AM and the dashi steams and the world is dark and the rain falls on Portland and somewhere in Sacramento your father is making his own miso soup with his trembling hands and somewhere in Ashland your mother is sleeping and will call at nine and somewhere in the ground of a Sacramento garden your grandmother's ashes are mixed with the soil between the daikon rows and the daikon is growing and the soil is rich and the story is not finished and the year is new and the soup is ready.

I do not make a resolution. I make miso soup. The miso soup is the resolution. The resolution is: continue. Continue the practice. Continue the writing. Continue the parenting. Continue the living. Continue the enduring. Continue the making of dashi, from scratch, every morning, the kombu soaked overnight, the bonito flakes added at exactly the right moment, the way Fumiko did it, the way I do it, the way Miya is learning to do it. The chain. The chain holds. It always holds. Happy New Year, Fumiko. The ozoni is right. The life is right. The practice continues.

The ozoni is ours — it belongs to Fumiko, to Sacramento soil, to six AM darkness and steaming dashi and a chipped bowl held in both hands — and I would not offer you a substitute for it. But when people ask me what to make on a morning when they want to feel that same quality of intention, that same sense of having prepared something the night before with the next day in mind, I point them to these overnight oats. The kombu soaked while I slept; the oats soak the same way. The practice of beginning before the beginning, of trusting that what you set in motion in the dark will be ready when the light comes — that is something any kitchen can hold. These carrot cake overnight oats are what I make for Miya on the mornings that are not New Year’s, the ordinary mornings that are also, quietly, the whole point.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 8 hours (overnight) | Servings: 2

Ingredients

1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup unsweetened almond milk (or milk of choice)
1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt
1 cup finely grated carrot (about 2 medium carrots)
2 tablespoons pure maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons chia seeds
2 tablespoons raisins
2 tablespoons chopped walnuts or pecans, for topping
Pinch of fine sea salt

Instructions

Combine the base. In a medium bowl or large jar, stir together the rolled oats, almond milk, Greek yogurt, chia seeds, maple syrup, vanilla extract, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and salt until fully combined.
Fold in the carrots and raisins. Add the grated carrot and raisins and stir until evenly distributed throughout the oat mixture.
Divide and refrigerate. Spoon the mixture into two jars or airtight containers. Seal and refrigerate overnight, or for at least 6 hours, until the oats have absorbed the liquid and thickened to a creamy consistency.
Finish and serve. In the morning, give each jar a stir. If the oats are thicker than you like, add a splash of milk and stir to loosen. Top each serving with chopped walnuts or pecans and serve cold, or warm gently in the microwave for 60–90 seconds if preferred.

Nutrition (per serving)

Carrot Cake Overnight Oats — The Practice You Begin the Night Before