September 26, 2012

• No More Cooking!

  Yesterday may turn out to be a day my kids talk about many, many years from now.  “That was the day Mom finally snapped.”

  I heard one more complaint about food than I could handle, and I snapped.  Yes, I did.

  You, gentle readers, probably know how important food is in the [our last name] household.  We like it, we eat it, we grow it, we spend lots of time making, enjoying, and talking about it.  Our fondest memories from France involve food.  Our best family time is around the dinner table.  I’ve always made a point to get the boys in the kitchen with me.  We care about sustainable agriculture.  We’ll try anything once.  We’re foodies.

  But with all the time I spend on food, I still get complaints.  All the time.

  “Mommy, I don’t like mushrooms.”
  “Gosh, I was hoping not to have to do quite so many dishes.”
  “Mom, I’m trying not to eat so many carbs.”
  “Why do we have to stay at the table for the WHOLE DINNER?”
  “I’m really trying to cut back on fatty foods, you know.”
  “Mommy, why do you have to make so many dinners with onions?”
  “I wouldn’t have mopped last night if I had known you were making egg rolls tonight.”
  “This cabbage is . . . not my favorite vegetable, Mommy.”
  “I have to be at choir practice in five minutes, Mom.  Why isn’t dinner ready yet?”
  “I thought we were doing less meat this month.”
  “I had to eat a yucky lunch at school today, Mommy, because you didn’t pack my lunch.”
  “Whoa!  How much did all this cost??”
  “Why didn’t you buy chocolate ice cream?”
  “Mom, it’s swim season now.  Where are the carbs?”
  “We never gave Isaac that canned stuff.”
  “You’re not making dessert tonight?”

  I realized that far too much of my life is invested in making delicious, inventive, varied, inexpensive, tasty, healthy, not-too-many-dish-dirtying food.

  And so I snapped.  Royally.

  I am now on semi-strike.  I will spend no more than fifteen minutes per day preparing food.  Period.

  Let you ungrateful wretches see how that feels.

  Okay.

  I’m lying.  It didn’t happen that way at all.  But I have decided to do an experiment for the next month or so, involving drastically reduced food preparation time.

  Here’s what happened.

  Stephen, the ever-loving and thoughtful hubby that he is, said to me yesterday, “Hon, you know, you are working two jobs and trying to finish a diss while raising three children.  Maybe . . . maybe we don’t have to have lamb shanks and homemade sushi and fresh-baked bread and homemade ice cream and, you know, fancy stuff, like, every night.”

  At first, I questioned his sanity.  (Yes I did, gentle reader.  I am ashamed to say it, but I did.)

  But then I repented of my error and I decided to take him at his word.  He said, “You know, it’s not the end of the world if we have to eat frozen lasagna.”  And so we will.

  Okay, maybe not frozen lasagna.  (Ick.)  But I’ve decided to spend the next month prioritizing time over every other food consideration–over health, cost, taste, variety, enjoyment, everything.  Fifteen minutes of food preparation per day, max.  Total.  For all meals.  (Except on the weekend, because . . . well, because.)

  So.  I made a meal plan, and I went shopping.

  

  That’s it.  That’s what we’re having for the next week.

  

  Breakfast is fruit, toast, yogurt, or cereal.  If you want oatmeal, make it yourself.  Peel your own damn banana, and don’t you dare ask me to cut it for you.

  The cereal is also for days I run out of time before dinner’s ready.  If it’s been fifteen minutes and we have no dinner?  Cereal.

  

  Lunch is sandwiches.  Period.  If you want healthy, I’ll throw a piece of lettuce on it.

  

  Sorry, Amos, but this applies to you, too.  If you can’t eat what we’re eating, you get the canned/jarred/shelf-stable crap.  Suck it up, kid.  (And, yes, I did get the liquid concentrate, for days stirring powdered formula might be too much for me.  I dare you to give me grief about it.)

  

  Snacks–pretzels or popcorn.  No.  I’m not making scones.  No.  I’m not making homemade cookies.  And you might want to pick popcorn the days Daddy is home, because I’m totally counting the two minutes it’s in the microwave as prep time.

  

  Tomorrow is tomato soup and grilled cheese.

  Fridays and Saturdays are “proper” cooking days.  I’ll do something easy-ish, but I won’t hold myself to the fifteen-minute limit.

  Friday night is pizza night.  If I go over on my time even once during the week, I’m ordering pizza.  (Don’t you raise that eyebrow at me, Stephen.  This was your idea.)  If we stay within my time budget, I’ll make it, but only with purchased dough.  This Friday is pepperoni pizza and carrot salad.

  

  Saturday will be burgers, cole slaw, and French fries.

  

  Sunday is back on quick-prep time.  I got a cut-up chicken and some diced sweet potatoes and rutabagas.  Five minutes to put it in a roaster and throw it in the oven.  Done.  (I can’t believe I never, ever bought a cut-up whole chicken before now.  I can’t believe twenty cents a pound actually dissuaded me.)

  There’s enough of the veggies to make soup for Monday.  Five minutes to put the veggies in with the broth, five minutes to puree when it’s done cooking.  I’m not even going to stir it in between.

  

  Tuesday is steak sandwiches with mushrooms and onions.  I hope chopping the onions won’t put me over on time.

  Wednesday is roast with onions.  If it takes less than ten minutes to cut the onions and put the roast and onions in the oven, I’ll also make green beans.  Otherwise, no go.

  

  This was the most important purchase.  Spaghetti, jarred sauce, and frozen meatballs.

  If I hear one complaint about the new meal plan, He Who Complains gets to make dinner the next night.  Anybody, even someone with a Y chromosome, can make spaghetti and meatballs.

  Well, okay, maybe not Theo.  But the other two are on notice!

  So there we are.  I won’t keep track of cost this week, because I’ve got, for example, three loaves of homemade bread I’ll use, and a bunch of other leftovers we’ll probably use to supplement lunch.

  But after this week, I’ll be interested to see how much this kind of eating costs.

  Stay tuned!

  • 2:15 pm
  • 6 Comments