One thing that I appreciate about raising a child with a severe food allergy is that she has taught me — all of us, really — to appreciate simple foods.

Nobody enjoys a bowl of hot rice or buttered noodles or plain grits quite like Julia does. I imagine that having to read as many food labels as she has read makes her really appreciate the simplicity of just a couple lines of ingredients.

And I can appreciate her love of the simple things in general. After all, mashed potatoes have always been my favorite food.

My mom, like millions of moms all over the world, used buttered noodles as a kind of dessert, letting me eat a bowl full only after I’d eaten something of nutritional value.

And for most of my life, I refused to eat ketchup on my fries. I reasoned that a really good French fry doesn’t actually need ketchup. And why would I waste the calories on anything less than a really good fry?

So for the most part, I understood where Julia was coming from. But I never really appreciated her love of oatmeal until fairly recently. For years, it’s been her go-to comfort food.

Sad? Sick? Traveling? Make sure you pick up some rolled oats. Everything is better with oatmeal, apparently, but I never understood the appeal.

Maybe it goes back to when she was in utero and I forced myself to eat one cup of old-fashioned oatmeal topped with a bit of brown sugar Splenda every… single… morning in an attempt to control my gestational diabetes.

That lack of variety combined with a near-constant state of pregnancy-induced nausea certainly didn’t do anything to endear oats to me.

Unfortunately, I also didn’t really know how to prepare it very well. It didn’t occur to me to add salt, and I certainly didn’t dream of adding butter.

Today, both of those are necessary ingredients for me.

And maybe it’s because of that I’ve finally come around a bit. When I was recovering from the stomach bug recently, I found myself — dare I say it? — even looking a bit forward to a bowl of warm oatmeal.

(To be fair, though, I found most anything appealing so long as it seemed bland enough for my tummy to handle it.)

I ended up making a recipe of these oats and eating half of it warm for breakfast and the other half cold for lunch. It was equally delicious both times.

So if you, too, see “oatmeal” and think “meh,” try this recipe out. I know it’s not the absolute healthiest version of oats available, but it is still quite a bit better both for your wallet and your insulin levels than are cold cereal or even instant oatmeal packets.

This is a recipe of proportions more than anything else. I do not measure anything when I make it, so all measurements are approximations.

SWEET CINNAMON OATMEAL

Ingredients
1 cup old fashioned oats (not instant or quick — they will turn out mushy)
Water to cover oats plus about 1/2 inch (about 1 1/4 cup)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon butter

Directions
■ Pour oats into the bottom of a glass bowl much larger than you think you need. (I’m not usually persnickety about bowls, but really and truly, you want to use a glass bowl here. Microwaving in melamine or plastic will turn the bowl extremely hot and will scarcely cook the oats. A large glass measuring cup or even a casserole dish is a smarter bet than a plastic bowl.) Add water to cover plus about a half inch. (For me, if my fingertip touches just the top of the oats, the water would cover my fingernail but not reach my knuckle.) Add salt to the water and oat mixture. Stir well (do not omit this step).
■ Cook in microwave for about 3 minutes. Stir well. Place bowl back into microwave and cook for another 1-3 minutes, depending on your microwave and your preferences; I do it for 2 minutes. Stir again. While oats are still hot, add butter, a liberal sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar. Stir. Taste a spoonful when it cools enough not to burn your lip. Add cinnamon or brown sugar to taste.

Amelia Plair is a mom and high school teacher in Starkville. Email reaches her at [email protected].

Amelia Plair is a Starkville resident who writes occasional food columns.