Easter Pineapple
For as long as I can remember, pineapple and my Easters have gone hand-in-hand. This time of year, when Cadberry Eggs blanket the grocery store, I start to check the produce section. Do the pineapples smell sticky, sweet? Do their spiky, aloe-like leaves pull out easily? If so, I’m bound, by the same urge that makes kids devour Peeps, to drop one into my cart.
My Easter pineapple tradition started like this: When I was about seven or eight, my mom—the very same woman who gave out sugarless gum at Halloween—decided to let the Easter bunny in on her healthy eating mentality. That year, in the late ‘80s, when the bushy tailed bunny dropped by our front door, he left two unconventional Easter baskets. One was full of pink, green, and yellow plastic eggs—and a pair of tights—for my sister, Anna. And the other, for me, was full of more plastic eggs and a pineapple.
In elementary school, a pineapple is not exactly your typical lunch-box fruit. That golden prickly base, with long, piercing, green leaves looks more like a palm tree than a PB&J accompaniment. My doubts, though, were quickly dismissed. Anna and I spent that Easter morning at the kitchen table gobbling up the golden fruit, juice running down our chins, fingers sticky—and laughing. From then on, I loved pineapple. It showed up at every Easter, and by the time I reached college, I felt entitled to an Easter pineapple.
Freshman year at a small liberal arts college, I celebrated Easter Sunday without much fanfare. No egg dying, no shopping for Polish sausage, and no pineapple. Well, almost no pineapple. I didn’t buy one myself. I didn’t get an Easter basket, but Easter Sunday brunch, we went to the dining hall. There, surrounding the cold cuts was a shelf of yellow pineapples. I decided I had to have one. The only problem was that the pineapples weren’t up for grabs. Which meant I’d have to lift it off the counter and sneak it out of the mess hall without Elaine knowing.
Elaine was the menacing dining greeter, who spoke little English but who whipped her few words fearlessly. I devised simple plan: Take the pineapple in one swoop, keep it low, and walk fast. But Elaine saw me slide the pineapple off the shelf. I dashed into the bathroom and hid in a stall as Elaine’s footsteps traced the floor. Eventually, she left, I stuffed the pineapple up my shirt, and made it back to the dorm room. I ate pineapple all week.
I would like to think that subsequent Easters, which I’ve spent in Chile, Portugal, Peru, and Denver, I’ve been slightly more civilized about my pineapple addiction. In Portugal, I ate sweet egg bread and hardboiled eggs—and simply wished for pineapple. In Peru, I settled on a pineapple-mango-orange juice.
This year in Denver, I bought my own Easter pineapple. I’ve been doing that ever since I moved back four years ago. With the fruit, I made oatmeal. Steel cut oats slow cooked with golden raisins and brown sugar. They were topped with little squares of juicy pineapple and crispy toasted coconut. This was the kind of oatmeal that they would serve on coast of Brazil (if they served oatmeal on the coast of Brazil). And it was the perfect use of an Easter pineapple for a woman on the verge of 30, who balances a full-time job, being the girlfriend of a man with two small kids, and a spirited, wanderlust soul.
Pineapple Oatmeal
Serves 4
Adapted from Sunset
On spring mornings, when the air is cool, but the sun is bright, this oatmeal is perfect. It’s warm, filling, and full of fresh tropical flavors. I use McCann’s Irish steel cut oats, because I find that they cook up quickly. You can also use Quaker Oats, which have a great flavor. If you do use Quaker, be sure to adjust the ingredients and cooking instructions according to the package directions. Also, a couple tips: You can adjust the consistency of this oatmeal with hot milk or water. And if this recipe makes more than you can eat in one setting, freeze the extras. They keep well.
3 ½ cups water
1 cup McCann’s Irish steel cut oats
½ cup golden raisins
¾ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons canola oil
2 tablespoons light brown sugar
1 ½ cups diced pineapple
½ cup toasted coconut
In a medium saucepan over high heat, bring water to a boil. Add oats. Bring to a boil again, and stir in raisins, salt, and oil. Reduce heat to low. Allow oatmeal to simmer uncovered, until tender but still firm to the bite, 6-8 minutes.
Remove oatmeal from heat, stir in brown sugar, and let rest one minute. Serve oatmeal topped with pineapple and coconut.
For printable recipe, click here.
