Tiramisu Overnight Oats

April 2029. The work of grief does not stop when the year turns. I know this from Ruben. I know it differently now because Hector and Ruben occupied different parts of my self. Ruben was my other half — the person I grew up alongside, the first relationship I understood. Hector was the floor. The thing you stand on so you can stand on everything else. The floor is gone and I'm still standing because I built a floor of my own over the years I was watching him demonstrate how to build one. That's the purpose of parents: not to hold you up forever, but to show you how to hold yourself.

Sofia won the NCAA Indoor Championship in the 3200 meters. Her time was a school record at Stanford, which is not a small thing — Stanford has had excellent distance runners for decades. She called me from Eugene, still in her racing gear. She said, "Dad." I said, "I know." She said, "I was thinking about Abuelo the last eight hundred meters." I told her I thought he was watching. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "He always watched." He did. He always did. He watched everything we did with the same focused attention. The attention was the love.

Made tres leches this week — not for Ruben's birthday, which was February; just because I needed to make it. Sometimes you make the dish that lives in the person and that's the way you talk to them. I made it, ate a slice, and left the rest on the counter for the family in the morning. Lisa found it and asked if it was a special occasion. I said I just needed to make it. She understood. She always understands.

I said I made tres leches because I needed to, and that’s the whole truth of it. The instinct behind that — soaking something in milk and sugar until it becomes more than itself, until it carries a kind of weight — that’s the same instinct behind this Tiramisu Overnight Oats. Coffee and cream and something soft underneath, assembled at night and left to become what it needs to become by morning. It’s the kind of thing you make with no occasion except the occasion of missing someone, and it will still be there when the family wakes up.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 8 hours (overnight chill) | Servings: 2

Ingredients

1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup whole milk (or oat milk)
1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt
2 tablespoons mascarpone cheese
2 tablespoons brewed espresso or strong coffee, cooled
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1 tablespoon chia seeds
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder, for dusting
2 ladyfinger cookies, crumbled (optional, for topping)

Instructions

Mix the base. In a medium bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the oats, milk, Greek yogurt, mascarpone, espresso, maple syrup, chia seeds, vanilla extract, and salt until the mascarpone is fully incorporated and no lumps remain.
Portion and chill. Divide the mixture evenly between two jars or lidded containers. Seal and refrigerate for at least 6 hours, or overnight. The oats will absorb the liquid and thicken to a creamy, pudding-like consistency.
Finish in the morning. When ready to serve, stir each jar gently. If the mixture is thicker than you like, loosen it with a splash of milk.
Dust and top. Using a fine-mesh sieve, dust the top of each jar generously with cocoa powder. If using, scatter the crumbled ladyfinger pieces over the top just before serving so they hold a little texture.
Serve cold. These are best eaten straight from the jar, cold, at whatever hour of the morning the family finds them.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tiramisu Overnight Oats — The Dish That Lives in the Person