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Goldilocks & the Artisanal Porridge

Non-GMO. Gluten-Free.

Ok, great. Now that we've got that out of the way, it's time for a fairytale.

Once upon a time, in the faraway land of Breukelen, there lived a late-thirty-something male named Goldilocks. One weekend night, he found himself out wandering the streets of the posh Breukelen neighborhood of Parke Sloppe, imbibing & imbibing & imbibing.

Come the morn, aforementioned late-thirty-something male awoke to find himself famished, his mouth as dry as a wench's vagina and his head heavier than that same wench.

He left his home in search of sustenance and against all his instincts, made his way to Brooklyn Porridge, a month-old pop-up café in the space that's typically occupied in the non-winter months by Uncle Louie G's. Hyper-focus: Porridge. Slogan: "Comfort food redefined."

For years, Goldilocks was a strict oatmeal dude. His mother often had a bowl of cream-of-wheat for breakfast, but the texture scared lil' Goldi. Over time, he learned to embrace the consistency of cream-of-wheat. Anything beyond that was unimaginable though. Grits? He was from the Northeast. Amaranth? Isn't that a precious metal or some shit?

Now 39, Goldilocks tells himself that he is adult enough to "try new things." Just the other week, he tried this new thing with raw fish, U2's Zooropa and a bicycle pump.

This is how, on a Sunday morn, he found himself at Brooklyn Porridge, convincing himself that everything was going to be all right. Bob Marley told him so.

He'd already tried grits a couple of times. It was time to experiment and move on to amaranth, a grain that was a staple food of the ancient Aztecs until the Spanish came over and were all FUCK YOU GIVE US YER GOLD QUIT IT WITH THE AMARANTH.

Goldilocks doesn't like having to make choices, so he didn't assemble something from Brooklyn Porridge's extensive "assemble-your-own" list of butters, cheeses, dry fruits, nuts and seeds, fresh fruits, veggies, fruit toppings, sweet sauces, savory sauces and meats. He didn't even consider ordering one of their Waffletwist™ pressed Belgian waffle sandwiches. Too much thinking. Instead, he kept it easy and went with a pre-suggested sweet blend, the Maple Ham & Apple with Velvet Amaranth ($7.95), one of four Brooklyn Porridge "favorites."

It came with maple-bourbon ham, cinnamon apples and vermont sharp cheddar. The ham...smoky and delicious. The apples...cinnamony sweet. The cheddar...didn't make a difference at all flavorwise. The amaranth...well, shit. Goldilocks will eat roe til the cod comes home, but he just couldn't get down with the large texture of the amaranth. No matter how much he tried to mix all the junk up, he was left with bland, amaranth-filled bites.

Goldilocks' lady friend went the savory route, opting for the Portobello and Pesto with Grits ($7.95). Since she is a generous soul who also understood that Goldilocks was trying to sample different dishes in the interest of blogging, he got to try a bit.

After starting with the Maple Ham and Apple, Goldilocks dug into the Portobello and Pesto and, for that one simple moment in time, realized that he'll never love sweet the way he loves savory. With a mix of roasted red pepper, caramelized onions, grilled portobello and pesto mixed in with grits (a decidely more palatable porridge blend), there was a better balance of textures and flavors.

Since there's nothing cuter than Goldilocks and a lady sharing a warm beverage on a cold day, they also split a small cup of Hot Apple Cider ($3.50). It came with a sweet, spiced taste & chunks of apple floating in it. Shortly after leaving Brooklyn Porridge, Goldilocks and his lady friend went to a stoop sale a block away, where lady friend, after purchasing some kitchenware, forgot the remainder of the cider on a table. Rumor in the kingdom is that it later sold for a quarter.

An hour-and-a-half later, Goldilocks was hungry again. He wondered why he had just spent $7.95 on a bowl of porridge. He realized that the quality was there. He decided it was ok. Porridge does not a man make.

He decided that one day before Brooklyn Porridge leaves in March, he'll go back. There's sure to be another weekend where he'll traipse through the streets of Parke Sloppe on weekend evening, awash in spirits and find himself awake the following morning, his eyes as puffy as a bare-knuckle boxer's and his hair as ruffled as a wench's vagina. He will go to Brooklyn Porridge and he will slap down a twenty-dollar bill and he will order up grits with aged gruyere, cherry pistachio granola, spiced cranberry compote, salted dark chocolate, white truffle oil, chicken apple sausage, agave, artichoke hearts, cashew butter and fuck it...chia seeds for good measure.

Hours later, Goldilocks will take the most satisfying dump of his life.

Brooklyn Porridge, 741 Union St (btwn 5th Ave & 6th Ave)

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