Though it was a product of the grain belt and specifically from my home town, I didn’t grow up with Cream of Wheat on the breakfast table. We were a cold-cereal-and-milk family (to the best of my recollection), with oatmeal and raisins dusted with brown sugar on Sunday evenings in front of the Wonderful World of Disney.
Later, voyageur trips into the Boundary Waters between Minnesota and Canada introduced more variety of hot breakfasts, including homemade combinations of grains, or Canada’s famous Red River Cereal (a favorite of my trekking companion Bruce Hooke). To these we would add whatever dried fruits we had along, and some nuts or pepita seeds or sunflower kernels, sometimes a handful of couscous to lighten the porridge, a dash of salt, a dash of sweetener.Tasty. Sustaining.
More recently, steel cut oats, that cook relatively quickly but maintain that delicious chewiness that goes so well with those complementary fruits-and-nuts. Since I have been cooking a fair amount of Indian the past number of years, I found that grinding the seeds of three green cardamom pods really brought out the flavor of that dish.
And then, every once in a while, I’d crack open an envelope of Upma, purchased at whatever local South Asian grocery carried it, and whisked together a bowl of this spicy, savory grain dish. Delicious.
But also suspect. I don’t like cooking from packets, because packets have a habit of floating in boats, or sitting on shelves for extended periods of time; due to that tendency, they are filled with a variety of preservatives, presumably ranging from the more benign in our highly-monitored industrial nations, to the more dubious in those nations whose governments or habits are less strict about such things. Once you ask the question “But where do these ingredients come from?”, you are in trouble: you need ask it only once and the genii escapes its bottle; it becomes nigh on impossible to vacuum it back into obscurity.
Genii or no genii, I truly enjoy learning how a dish is prepared traditionally and end-to-end, as far back as the planting and cultivation of ingredients if I can get there, at least visiting the farms where things are grown, talking to the farmers, pulling some weeds, bringing home an armload of fresh-cut or freshly-threshed goodness.
As I cooked breakfast for the family the other day, I idly wondered just what was in this instant Upma packet and, receiving an slightly unpleasant answer, I recited a few magic words (in the form of a Google web search), and found not only how millions of Indian cooks have prepared this dish over centuries, adding spices and vegetables to make a super-nutritious breakfast, but even how they made the coarse rice or wheat flours from whole grains they themselves brought from the fields. Lovely.
Here is my version, based on a few “family” recipes, using either rava (semolina flour) or, for wheat-free breakfasters, coarse-ground rice. You can buy both at international groceries and, most likely, at your local coop as well. It is a work in progress, and destined to change daily as the mood or the vegetable drawer content changes.
Rava Upma or South Indian Uppumavu
Dry roast rava or rice over medium heat until fragrant, non-sticky, and still white; set aside | 1 c | rava (semolina) or, for wheat-free diets, coarse-ground rice |
In saucepan, heat oil, add mustard til it “pops”, then the cumin to lightly brown, and finally the other spices, frying briefly | 1 T ¾ t ½ t 1 t 2 t 6 10 to 12 |
light oil mustard seed cumin seed urad dal channa dal kuri leaves * split cashews |
Add onion and chili slices to the spices and fry until transparent but not browned | 1 2 or 3 ½” ⅓ c 2 T |
large onion, in long strips green chilies, chopped fine ginger, grated carrots, finely diced, and/or peas grated coconut (to taste) |
Add to mixture and bring to a boil, then sprinkle in the roasted rava and stir thick | 2¼ c 1 t+ |
water salt |
Fluff the porridge with a fork, and garnish with a touch of coconut oil and sprinkle of cilantro | 2 t taste |
coconut oil coriander leaves |
How do you make Akki Tari/Rice Uppumavu at home?
One cook used brown rice for a richer, higher fiber alternative.
- Wash rice twice in running water, then drain it completely.
- Place cheese cloth or a napkin on a plate and spread the washed rice on it, in an even, thin layer.
- Let it dry for 6-8 hours or overnight, until the dampness is completely gone.
- Process the softened grains in a mixer or grinder until they reach a coarse rava consistency.
One cup of brown rice yields about a cup of rice rava. Larger batches can be preserved for a few weeks in a dry container with lid. The rice must be devoid of any moisture before you powder it, or mildew will quickly spoil the grains.
And a spoonful of Cream-of-Wheat history…
Who is this man of African descent, used to sell Cream of Wheat since for a century or more? A little shocking to see him cooking up a pot of cereal – always – for a small band of little white children.
“A cultural icon may lie in an unmarked grave in Leslie. He is Frank White, a chef who claimed to sell Cream of Wheat to generations of Americans. White’s story, like his grave, would be forgotten if not for the Mid Michigan Genealogical Society and family researcher Jesse Lasorda of Lansing. Cataloguing Leslie’s Woodlawn Cemetery, the society found records of an unmarked “colored” grave. Lasorda was asked to learn more about the man buried there, Frank White.
“Lasorda found proof White was born about 1867 in Barbados, came to the United States in 1875 and became a naturalized citizen in 1890. When he died February 15, 1938, White was described by the Leslie Local-Republican as a “famous chef” who “posed for an advertisement of a well-known breakfast food.” Through his research, Lasorda became convinced White was the model for “Rastus,” the smiling Cream of Wheat chef. “He was on the Cream of Wheat box from 1901 to 1925,” Lasorda said.
“If so, it is impossible to prove. Cream of Wheat company history says the chef was a real person photographed about 1900 while working in a Chicago restaurant. His image was the basis for future versions of Rastus, but no one bothered to record his name.”
So that’s that. Enjoy your porridge, whatever language flavors it.
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