I don't like porridge. There I've said it. And me a middle class mum, too. It's like saying I hate Waitrose (gasp!) or that going on holiday to Cornwall is a real chore. Porridge is the bed rock of middle classism. It's what fuels us, gets us to work in the morning (as well as the Audi), gets our children out of their White Company pjs and into their Polarn O. Pyret long johns.
And I loathe it. It's claggy feel, the way it sticks to the roof of my mouth. Some mornings I look at it and I want to gag. My children love it, my husband loves it, and my brother-in-law, Uncle Brendan, loves it. I look at it and I think of sick. Instead, come rain or shine, I splosh some cool milk on my muesli. It may be snowing outside (bloody hope not, it's only October) but I want for nothing more than a bowl of muesli with some apple or pear chopped up and sprinkled on top. Plus a strong cup of milky coffee.
My muesli career began with Alpen, a frankly depressing introduction, but as I've grown up so has muesli. There are so many different versions, from supermarket basics to gastro-muesli, something I aspire to be able to afford on a regular basis.
I've made my own, a delicious (even though I say so myself) concoction but too time-consuming to be something I make for every day. Waitrose's Essential muesli is surprisingly nice, but my absolute favourite is BendyLegs Muesli, made on a beautiful beach in Wales (in my mind) by a wife/mum/GP and her helpers. It has little flecks of what I'm sure is vanilla, alongside the usual suspects of oats, dried fruit and seeds, which makes it stand out as the best muesli I've ever tasted. Give it a try. But when I'm feeling poor (most of the time, unfortunately) I stick to Suma's de luxe muesli which costs about £9 for 3kgs, which is a bargain, but a tasty one.