Do hungry teenagers live in your home? Do they eat anything and everything, even the containers that store the food? If so, I can help as I discovered a cheap cure for teenage hunger.
Now, to be clear, I didn't invent or find the cure; it actually found me. I grew up on the blacktop — where we teens and preteens pounded basketballs from sunup till the lights at the park went dark. Sometimes we'd pay Yellow Face Kerry five bucks to hotwire the park light to keep the game going. We had no problem balling all day, only stopping to eat. Mostly junk.
Our bodies were lean from the constant running. I still can't believe our menu–– Butterscotch Crumpets, Now Laters, Penny Candy, Boston Beans, Onion Pickles, Flaming Hot Cheetos, Hot Fries, Hot Takis, Jaw Breakers, Lemon Heads, Snow Balls and Frozen Cups.
The accumulation of this sugar and what seemed like a protein-free diet energized us for the whole summer. When we weren't swimming in sweets, we binged carbs — chicken cheesesteaks and fries, pizza, mozzarella sticks, burgers, hoagies, and various pasta-based dishes. This is not the cure. Please don't feed your kids any of this.
We ate this all day, jamming these meals into our talking holes, never getting full, always wanting and aching for more at all times, all the way up until Lenny delivered the cure.
The cure came from Lenny. Lenny is one of the premier cooks in the neighborhood. The other is Dion, who we called "Grill-Rilla" because he fights to man the grill at all cookouts, basketball tournaments, and block parties. Lenny could grill, too, and the two had been fighting over who was the best since they were 12 and 15 years old (Dion is older). Dion won the battle for years, but not because of age or skill — Lenny got caught in a stolen jeep, and the cops found a pistol. Lucky for him, four other boys were in the ride, all juveniles, and no one ratted. You can't put one pistol on five people. So he sat for about a year in a reform school for boys and came home with the cure.
"Water head! Wake up!" Lenny screamed at me, "Get up!"
I rolled over and muffled my head between my pillows. Lenny pulled my sheet until I fell off the bed and onto the floor.
"We gonna hoop up the airport, Dummy!" Lenny gasped in a holler, "Get your shoes!"
"What the hell? When you come home, thought you had two years?" I said, picking sleep out of my eyes, reaching for my Uptempos. "Let me brush my teeth. I'm hungry. I'm so hungry"
"A year suspended," Lenny answered, "I'm making oatmeal; it's enough for you and Trey, so bring your hungry ass on."
"Oatmeal? Man, what?"
"Oatmeal alone was like having a television without cable; you needed those upgrades for it to be worth it."
I wasn't eating oatmeal. Grits work, and so did Cream of Wheat, of course. Cream of Wheat, like Uncle Bens had a Black guy on the box, so I knew I could trust it. We knew nothing about slavery-based marketing themes behind brands like Aunt Jemima, which we pronounced Ant-Cha-Mama. I had eaten oatmeal before, and it was dry like plywood and dull, and if you didn't have sugar and cinnamon–– it was gross. You could eat Cream of Wheat and grits without sugar, butter, cinnamon, or anything, but not oatmeal. Oatmeal alone was like having a television without cable; you needed those upgrades for it to be worth it.
"Let's stop at the corner store. Trey wants Now Laters, and I want an egg sandwich," I screamed to Lenny. Trey, who was only six years old, smiled and said, "Mmmmmmmm. Now Later."
"Trust me!" Lenny shouted from downstairs, "I learned a trick in jail."
Did I even want to know?
The smell was pretty bland — not like oatmeal, but just boiling water that I later found out he'd cut with 2% milk. I am naturally finicky and reluctant to eat from anyone, but Lenny had a reputation like Dion; they loved cooking, and loved how people reacted to their creations even more, so I was at least going to sample it.
Like a scientist, Lenny stood over three bowls of hot oatmeal. He sprinkled sugar, cinnamon and a small spoonful of butter into each. I reached for my bowl.
"No, no, no," Lenny said in a whisper, now, as if yelling would hurt his dish, "Let me add the special ingredient."
"You gonna sprinkle jail on top?" I laughed.
Trey and I watched as he grabbed a container of government-issued peanut butter that nobody ate, dug into it with a tablespoon, carved out a smooth slab, and plopped it on top of the other ingredients in the oatmeal. He then whipped it smoothly until the oatmeal became creamy as frosted icing and passed the bowls to us. Trey looked my way, waiting for me to try the concoction first.
Lenny gulped down his bowl as if he'd never eaten, "What y'all fools waitin' for?"
I swallowed a small spoon, and then another and another–– my little brother followed, and I have to say, almost 30 years later, and that is still the best bowl of oatmeal I've ever had. I couldn't believe how good it was. We ate two servings and were fast asleep in Lenny's car as we headed toward the airport to play basketball. He literally had to drag us out of the car to break our comas.
If I remember right, those two bowls of oatmeal kept us full for the entire day, maybe almost two, which is why I named it the official cure for teenage hunger.
The PB oatmeal that cures teenage hunger
Ingredients
- 1 serving of oatmeal made with oat or almond milk. Note: I recommend using a little extra milk, because the other ingredients will make the consistency denser
- 1 teaspoon of brown sugar or agave nectar.
- 1 teaspoon of organic butter.
- 1 tablespoon of organic peanut butter.
- Sprinkle almond, dates and raisins to taste
Directions
- Mix it all up until it's smooth like butter
