Have you heard? Gruel is the new stew.
Here at Please All Trendily Inc., we are not about to let this gluten-free craze pass us by. We know: we’re seriously late to the game on this one — it’s like the seventh-inning stretch here!
Sorry… one of our editors (not the one who edited this paragraph, btw, who’s a bit more with it, if ya know what I mean) really likes baseball and insisted on using that metaphor. I know, right?
We’re also hip to other fashionable trends. Tae Bo, ShamWow, America Online… the list goes on. Connecting with cool, influential consumers like yourself is what makes PAT Inc. so resonant within your market.
Okay, clearly that was his paragraph too. Our editorial methods are totally whack. Just pretend you like what you read, smile and nod if you want to, and we’ll get to the recipe before you know it.
And so, to capitalize on the tripartite convergence of the gluten-free, low glycemic and gruel trends, PAT Inc. is proud to present this recipe for your gluten-free, low glycemic pleasure.
Prep time: 20 minutes
- 2 cups coarse-ground gluten-free low glycemic millet (barnyard is best but try dirt Marmite millet as a substitute if farm-evoking varieties are scant)
- 2 cups coarse-ground gluten-free low glycemic corn (try to rescue it before it becomes just another few drops of ethanol or high fructose corn syrup; nighttime is best for sneaking into the factory)
- 1 cup coarse-ground gluten-free low glycemic teff (yeah, we don’t know what that is, either)
- 1 gallon gluten-free low glycemic water (be sure that the label on the bottle says “gluten-free” AND “low glycemic” — otherwise, you never know with water)
Wheedle those grains ‘tween the lips of an extra large pot and set that bad boy (or girl — actually a cooking vessel would be better gendered as female, simply for its shape and function as a container and for no other reason, particularly any that would engender offense) on a stove set to medium flame. When that crucible’s at peak heat (which you’ll know is happening because it’ll look triggered), put the brakes on a tad, reining that stovetop blaze down to low. Then, stir for five minutes with the evenhanded temperance of a teetotaling librarian who has obsessive-compulsive disorder and a full belly of warm (not hot) chamomile tea.
Feed it to orphans, indigents, POWs, wealthy stowaways, political prisoners, and anyone else whose strength you’d rather sap.