Chasing the Ideal Porridge Bowl

In 2015, while vacationing in Scotland, Lisa Williams stumbled upon a dazzling bagpipe parade and a queue of people in aprons waving flags from around the globe. Curiosity piqued, she discovered it was a porridge parade celebrating contestants in a world porridge championship.

“Stepping into the village hall [where the contest takes place], it’s adorned with tartan and heather, and filled with flags from participants’ countries,” she recalls. “It was incredible. I was captivated. I told my husband I wanted to join in.” Four years later, Williams returned to Scotland, where her porridge was named the best in the world. “When they announced my name, I was completely taken aback,” she shares.

Much like Goldilocks on her quest for the ideal bowl, Williams is part of a passionate group of both professional and amateur chefs from around the world who compete annually to create the finest bowl of what is essentially gruel. They convene in the quaint village of Carrbridge, Scotland, nestled on the edge of a national park, for the Golden Spurtle World Porridge Making Championship. The judges, primarily from the culinary field, assess each entry in the ‘traditional’ and ‘specialty’ categories based on color, texture, hygiene, and flavor. The term “golden spurtle” refers both to a traditional Scottish tool designed for stirring porridge and the shape of the trophy awarded to victors.

What started as a tourism campaign in 1994 to lure winter visitors to the charming Scottish village of 700 has transformed into a beloved event, attracting hundreds of onlookers and around 30 competitors each year. “I read about it in the newspaper and thought if this isn’t a prank and it’s genuine, it’s the most absurd and wild idea I’ve ever encountered,” shares Saga Rickmer from Sweden. She registered immediately, competing in the 2016 world championships and ultimately winning the Swedish Porridge Competition in 2019.

This year, due to COVID-19, the competition will transition online, with participants submitting brief video recipes, and winners announced via social media on October 10 — World Porridge Day. Although the excitement of preparing thick grains live may be absent, the significance of the challenge resonates more than ever. Anyone who has been cooking the same simple meals from pantry staples during the pandemic will relate to the search for the ultimate bowl of gruel.

The 2020 competition will also shift its focus entirely to the specialty category, where creativity knows no bounds. Competitors can add generous amounts of milk, shape the oatmeal into tapas, brulee it, steam it, or bake it. Per Carlsson from Sweden claimed the 2017 specialty title with a cloudberry-liqueur porridge brulee. Neal Robertson from Scotland took the win in 2011 with a porridge enhanced by cinnamon and nutmeg, topped with blueberry compote. Other unique creations have included mushroom porridge torta in 2012 and sticky toffee porridge in 2014.

Nick Barnard of London, a two-time champion in the specialty category, emphasizes that the secret to crafting an award-winning dish is understanding the judges’ preferences. “The Scots have a fondness for sugar, salt, and fat,” he notes. “So I deliver it generously.” Barnard won in 2019 with his maple pecan porridge, a delightful blend of pecan butter, maple syrup, dry milk powder, and cream, finished with pecans sautéed in ghee.

This year’s competition will not feature the traditional category, but typically, participants in this section must create porridge using only three ingredients: oats, water, and salt. Only minimally processed oats are permitted; instant and rolled oats are not allowed. Most winners have used steel-cut oats and soaked their porridge overnight.

While it may appear simple at first glance, the real challenge — and the enjoyable aspect — of this endeavor is transforming what is often seen as a symbol of culinary simplicity into something worthy of a grand spoon-shaped trophy. Many home cooks believe all oatmeal tastes quite similar, but for a true porridge enthusiast, it’s a matter of pride to rise above this notion and create a truly exceptional bowl of oats.

“Many older folks grew up with the traditional, gooey porridge and tend to dislike it,” Carlsson shares, who also took home the title in the traditional category in 2018. “But when I let them taste my porridge, they often say, ‘This isn’t porridge. This is something entirely different!’” At his bed and breakfast in southern Sweden, Carlsson used to share porridge duties with two friends, and guests consistently praised their meals when he was in charge. Nowadays, Carlsson is the primary chef nearly every morning. A small nook in the dining area is tastefully adorned with porridge-related items: a spurtle, a ladle, Swedish porridge merchandise, slogans, and even Carlsson’s own recipe book.

Fans typically believe that the perfect oat porridge should strike a balance: thick enough to provide some resistance, yet smooth enough to glide down effortlessly. It should certainly have salt, but not so much that it leaves you reaching for a glass of water. The texture must be substantial, not watery at all — just the right amount. Not too cold, not too hot — just like Goldilocks preferred.

“It’s incredible. In a competition, porridge is prepared in 24 different styles, each with its own unique flavor,” says Robertson, who has been competing for a decade and sometimes judges at the Swedish Porridge Championship.

Competitors dedicate months, even years, to perfecting their porridge techniques. “You essentially start preparing on the day of the competition for the following year,” says Williams. Carlsson enlisted the expertise of Dr. Viola Adamsson, a medical doctor and food nutritionist with several porridge books to her name, who also cooked for the Swedish Olympic ski team in 1998 and 2002. “She practically has a doctorate in porridge,” jokes Carlsson’s wife, Catarina Arvidsson. They trained via Skype and phone multiple times a week for a month, honing the ideal water-to-oat ratio.

In niche porridge communities, discussions often center on four vital components: oat-to-water ratio, type of oats, and salt. “I go for one part oats to three parts water,” insists Williams. “Soak the oats overnight and don’t skimp on the salt. I use Maldon sea salt — the same that the queen uses.” Williams favors a mix of half steel-cut oats and half stone-ground milled oats from Hamlyns of Scotland. “It gives a nutty texture, but it’s not overwhelmingly nutty. It’s more of a smooth nutty,” she explains.

Robertson shares a preference for steel-cut oats from Hamlyns as well, but he opts for one part oatmeal to 2.5 parts water. “I usually go with sea salt,” he adds. “It’s a bit softer and more forgiving. And remember to stir it anti-clockwise. It keeps the devil at bay.”

Carlsson uses one part oats to 4.5 parts water. “I cook it for at least 25 minutes, allowing it to swell,” he explains. Unlike Williams and Robertson, Carlsson prefers Swedish steel-cut oats from Saltå Kvarn, which offer a creamy texture with a toasted, ‘nicely burned’ flavor.

By choosing Swedish oats, Carlsson engages in a nationalistic debate among porridge chefs. “Different countries process their oats in unique ways,” says Anna Louise Batchelor, who claimed the specialty title in 2009. “Bob’s Red Mill in America offers a lovely coarse rolled oat that’s shiny and flat, but takes a long time to cook. Scotland loves its salty oats, while Sweden has a more rustic milling approach.” Batchelor favors coarse oats from the English brand Mornflake.

Even the spurtle, the tool’s namesake, sparks discussion. Unlike spoons, spurtles are said to prevent lump formation. Many swear by them. “If you want to stir porridge in a pan without making a mess, the spurtle is your best friend,” Barnard claims. “It incorporates air, prevents overheating at the bottom, and evenly distributes the salt.” In 2016, Bob Moore, founder of Bob’s Red Mill, won using a handcrafted myrtle spurtle from Oregon.

Charlie Miller, the current organizer of the competition, notes that some eccentric participants bring unique tools. Pressure cookers, microwaves, and bain-maries are common sights in the competition area. “One year, Neal Robertson brought water he claimed was sourced from a stream feeding his local whisky distillery,” Miller recalls. In 2018, competitor Lynn Munro brought her own milled oatmeal and cooked it with water she collected from the loch near her childhood home. One woman even grew her own oats for the event.

“Some participants take it very seriously, which is quite endearing,” Barnard observes. “The Swedes dress up as milkmaids and make quite a ruckus. Some even have spreadsheets. It’s really a circus.” However, all skill levels are welcomed. “I met a guy at the competition who had never made porridge in his life,” Miller laughs.

Robertson celebrated his 2010 victory with a tattoo that reads “World Porridge Champion 10.10.10,” sparking envy among peers. “Neal Robertson had a tattoo and flaunted it around. I thought I should get one too,” Carlsson shares. Shortly after his own win, he surprised his children by getting the words “World Champion” inked around a ladle on his forearm.

Yet, beneath the bravado and fierce rivalry, the Golden Spurtle is fundamentally about a group of people enjoying time together while cooking oatmeal. “It’s simply the best experience,” says Rickmer, who frequently visits her fellow Swede, Carlsson, as a guest chef at his bed and breakfast. “Competing in porridge is so charming and cozy. Everyone is such a geek about it, which I adore.”

Even this year, as competitors immerse themselves in their porridge creations from their own kitchens across the globe, they share a common bond rooted in a love for well-prepared grains and their significance. “It’s a food steeped in tradition,” Barnard explains. “Every culture has its own version of gruel.”

Like any competition, it brings a mix of tears and joy. “When I won, I was completely taken aback. My face turned bright red, and I nearly cried,” Williams recalls, smiling as she holds her trophy. She plans to return to Scotland for the next in-person competition, aiming to secure a win in the specialty category after her traditional category victory. “I’ve already chosen my china for the occasion.”

Clarissa Wei is an American freelance journalist residing in Taiwan.