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Oats and Oatmeal Recipes — The Simplest Thing I Could Make for Appa

Amma entered memory care. I know I said 'not yet' for years. Arvind said 'not yet.' Appa said 'she needs me.' But the night she wandered — left the house at 2 AM, walked three blocks in her nightgown before a neighbor found her and brought her back — the 'not yet' became 'now.' Appa called me at 3 AM. His voice was — I've never heard his voice like that. Not scared. Broken. The voice of a man whose vigilance failed despite forty years of vigilance. 'She walked out, Priya. I was asleep. I didn't hear the door.' Arvind and I found the facility the next week. The one I'd visited months ago — clean, kind, ten minutes from her house. We toured it again with Appa. He walked through the dining room and the activity room and the garden and he said nothing and at the end he sat in the car and put his head on the steering wheel. 'Appa.' 'I know. I know it's right. I know she's not safe.' 'It's not a failure.' 'It feels like one.' The move was on a Saturday. We brought her things: clothes, photos, the small Ganesh statue from her puja shelf, the tiny Chennai doll from the kolu. And the brass filter. The coffee filter. Because wherever Lakshmi Krishnamurthy lives, the filter coffee comes with her. Amma walked into the room and looked around and said: 'Is this a hotel?' 'It's your new room, Amma. You'll stay here for a while.' 'Where is Venki?' 'He'll visit every day.' 'Every day?' 'Every day.' She sat on the bed. She held the Ganesh statue. She looked at the window, which faces a garden, which has flowers she might or might not see. Appa visits every day. Every single day. He sits in her room and holds her hand and does the crossword and talks to her about the cricket scores as if she understands and she probably does, somewhere, under the fog, in the place where forty years of marriage lives. I bring food. Three times a week. Her sambar, her rasam, her curd rice. The memory care dining room serves acceptable food but Amma can't eat acceptable food. She eats HER food. And her food comes from my kitchen now. The brass filter is on her nightstand. The Chennai doll is on the shelf. The Ganesh watches. She's not in her kitchen anymore. But her food finds her. It always will.

Three mornings a week I’m up before dawn making sambar and rasam — the real kind, the kind that takes time — so the food reaches Amma warm and right. But Appa has to eat too, and Arvind, and me. And on those mornings when the grief sits heavy in my chest and I don’t have anything left after the big pots are packed and labeled, I make oatmeal. It’s the humblest thing on my stovetop, nothing like what I send to the facility, but it fills the people still standing in my kitchen — and right now, that matters just as much.

Oats and Oatmeal Recipes

Prep Time: 2 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 12 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

  • 1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
  • 2 cups water or milk (dairy or plant-based)
  • 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup, to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 cup fresh or dried fruit (banana slices, raisins, or berries)
  • 2 tablespoons chopped nuts or seeds (walnuts, almonds, or pumpkin seeds)
  • 1 tablespoon butter or coconut oil (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat the liquid. In a medium saucepan, bring water or milk to a gentle boil over medium heat. Watch carefully if using milk to prevent scorching.
  2. Add oats and salt. Stir in the rolled oats and salt. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5–7 minutes until the oats have absorbed most of the liquid and reached a creamy consistency.
  3. Season. Remove from heat. Stir in cinnamon and butter or coconut oil if using. Taste and adjust sweetness with honey or maple syrup.
  4. Serve and top. Spoon into bowls and top with your choice of fresh or dried fruit and nuts. Serve immediately while hot.
  5. Variations. For savory oatmeal, skip the sweetener and cinnamon; top instead with a soft-cooked egg, a drizzle of olive oil, and a pinch of black pepper. For a richer bowl, substitute half the water with full-fat coconut milk.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 160mg

Priya Krishnamurthy
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 350 of Priya’s 30-year story · Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.

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