Porridge chips: 'Not coming to a menu near you any time soon'
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Version 0 of 1. Last month, I gave three starchy subjects the chip treatment to see if any of them were a match for the mighty potato. Cassava and plantain had their merits, but it was the chickpea chip that had me wooed, producing a golden crisp-shelled chip with a creamy centre. A chip to rival the chip. A hot debate ensued in the comments, and on social media, about the merits of other worthy chip interlopers, some I’d heard of but not tried, and others were intriguing. So I’ve been on something of a chip odyssey these last weeks, road testing the three candidates mentioned by commenters most often, to see if any of them can dislodge the chickpea chip to stand next to the mighty potato. But we’re kicking off with one suggestion that had me intrigued: the lesser-known porridge, or oat, chip. Thanks for this experiment goes to Themardler, who noted that “the Danes fry cold porridge slabs”. Indeed, it seems they are not alone. Americans are in the practice of treating leftover oatmeal like pancakes and dousing it in maple syrup after it’s been fried and they’re only doing it, apparently, because their Gaelic ancestors were frying it up before them. I say bring it back. Whether or not anyone’s attempted a savoury stick-shaped version of this is less clear. Porridge chips Shopping: I favour the jumbo oat when it comes to my porridge, but I imagine that the large individual flakes poking out of a chip might be off-putting, so I head out to purchase some smaller common oats. Mr Quaker gets my business. Method: I employ the popular 2:1 water to porridge ratio: heat the mixture from cold and tip the well-cooked porridge into a parchment-lined baking tray. I leave it to cool at room temperature, but pop it into the freezer for a spell before slicing. These have to be cut up into chunky chips because, despite the cold blast, slicing up a gluey mass of cold porridge isn’t an altogether easy thing. My porridge chips are determined to cluster together in the oil, and I have to police them into single file with my slotted spoon. Eventually, and it seems to take a while, they get crispy and take on some brown bits. Once drained they look like cooked up wholemeal bread crusts – elongated croutons if you will. Verdict: These. Are. Filthy. Rest assured, they won’t be coming to a menu near you anytime soon. Don’t get me wrong; they are utterly delicious, in the same way that bits of escapee batter are delicious. If formed into a ball, pre-deep fry and tipped into caster sugar post-fry, these would be delectable sweet treats. Heck, they’d even take on a jammy centre quite well. I ponder two things. First: if I should go to the effort of inventing the ponut? (though I shall have to move fast, as someone else is trying to officially take the name for a less wholesome definition). Second: why on earth haven’t Scottish folk been thriftily selling leftover battered porridge alongside Mars bars for years? Score: 3/5 for tastiness and potential, but not as a chip. |