Hely-Hutchinson - 26 Grains

Everyone has a story about porridge. I frequently hear tales of how people like theirs, which toppings they prefer, the bowl they make it in, or who made it for them in the past, and where a lot of ritual surrounds porridge. Its the ultimate nostalgia food because it has been cooked at home as part of day-to-day life almost forever.

Like many, my porridge story began with my mum. Hers was a simple affair: watery oats, a sprinkling of brown sugar and a splash of milk, but with a large family of five kids to feed this was the perfect breakfast for hungry mouths. But, in truth, when I was younger, my dream wasnt a life in food. Growing up, the one area I excelled in was cleaning. My passion was so strong I had frequent territorial battles for the vacuum cleaner with my older sister (the photographer for this book). These went on until the day when, mid-fight, she suckered the vacuum nozzle right onto my head and I lost a perfect circle of hair right on the crown. That day I realised I wasnt cut out for a life of cleaning and so began my embrace of the chaos of the kitchen. But it was years later, after a year abroad in Copenhagen as a part of my degree, that my love affair with porridge really took off.

Living in Denmark was one of the most special times of my life. Pockets of sunshine would draw out crowds of Danes, fully cherishing each last ray. The quiet pace of the bicycles, undisturbed in their own lanes, set the daily rhythm of the city. Instead of lovers locking hands while walking, cycling couples would hold hands side by side. Cheeks would flush a light rusty orange, different from the English rosy red. The Danes are masters of baking and wafts of freshly baked bread and pastries would assail you as you made your way around town. I loved it there; it made such an impression on me. And what struck me most was the quality of life, particularly when it came to food. The tiniest coffee shops, with the most limited of menus, would deliver seemingly effortlessly delicious and creative food. Each day presented a dilemma: return to a place where Id had an exceptional experience or try a new restaurant always welcoming, unique in style, and invariably utterly delicious.

After a few weeks in Copenhagen, I came across a new term, hygge. This Danish word has no literal English translation, but evokes feelings of warmth, cosiness and comfort. It was everything I associated with Danish food in general, and in particular the sensation of wrapping my hands around a steaming bowl of porridge. The Danes do porridge properly. As well as oats they use ancient grains like spelt and barley, and top it with fragrant Nordic spices and fresh fruits. A bowl of grains may seem like simple fare but the Danes, wisely, never underestimate it. It is exciting to pair the unique texture and taste of a particular grain with appropriate spices, milks and toppings, thinking about sweet versus savoury, and creamy versus crunchy elements. I now build every porridge recipe according to these principles. And I will forever associate hygge with my memories of food in Copenhagen, even as it takes on new inflections for me as I cook today.

When I got back to the UK I couldnt stop thinking about the Danish approach to eating. I wanted to work in food but only for a company with the right ethos when it came to quality ingredients and well-produced food. After graduating I started working at Rude Health, and my bosses there were an inspiration. They encouraged me to demand more from food and to understand how eating well can make you feel better. I realised that what Id intuited in Copenhagen was really just this: simple food, prepared in the best possible way, makes you feel good and it tastes sensational.

It was during this time that the seed of an idea from Copenhagen began to grow. I decided to start my own business, 26 Grains. 26 being a number Ive always felt drawn to, and grains being where I wanted to start; as well as a play on the idea of grains of knowledge. My plan was simply to try out ideas around my own fascination with grains and see if anyone out there was interested too. And it turned out they were. We first opened in July 2014 as a pop-up at Old Street Station, London, a busy commuter thoroughfare. I was apprehensive at the prospect of launching a porridge business mid-summer. But as one customer rightly said: everyone your mum, your trainer, your nutritionist, the lot is telling you to eat porridge. And people are returning to it more and more and cooking it at home, but it is still hard to find a good bowl on the go. When you think of the ubiquity of sugary pastries, porridge really doesnt get the space it deserves.

I often tell my co-workers to not worry if something goes wrong, because it has probably already happened to me. Take our first ever stall at Old Street Station: I had rented a tiny kiosk space and, calling on friends and family for design, carpentry and manpower, built a beautiful white-tiled bar with a light cherry wood front, kitted out with a hob, bain marie, fridge and storage shelves. Wed designed it to roll out into the station during the day and store away in the kiosk at night. We had done the planning and building off-site so when our move-in afternoon came, on the eve of our first day trading, we set off to set up shop. With the freshly tiled bar in tow, we slowly wiggled across London through what seemed like the most painfully bumpy roads. Upon arrival, the heavens opened. We lifted the bar from the van, rolled it down the ramp into the station and located our proud little space. Slight problem: our bar was 1cm too wide each side for its new home. The measurements wed been given hadnt accounted for an old glass frame fitted from the previous shop. Luckily we found a space under the stairs in the station to store the bar ready to roll out the next day. At dawn on that first Monday of July, we rolled out the bar and set out all our gear: pots, labels, wooden spoons, compotes and, of course, enthusiasm, all at the ready. But our excitement was soon quashed: the hob didnt work. In the end we spent that first day introducing ourselves, outlining what wed be serving over the month and psyching ourselves up.

Once we got going it was a super month. We had commuters, fitness enthusiasts, techies, foodies and kids of all ages and nationalities chatting to us, dancing to our music and eating our food. It was incredible. Im often asked what has been my biggest achievement starting my own business, and while there have been a number of amazing moments, for me there is nothing better than seeing a face who has spared a few minutes while I make up their breakfast, return the following morning for more.