During the pandemic, once it became clear we were in it for the long run, I started to make more elaborate dinners. While the world was upended, food felt like one consistent thing I still had in my life. And it wasn't just me getting on the food-hype train. Everyone became obsessed with the science of sourdough, and the banana population was nearly decimated by the number of loafs being made everyday. But in the hours spent between the kitchen and the garden, I truly found my love for food.
Eventually many of us trickled back into offices, and with it came the return of the Sainsbury meal deal - a fizzy drink, a sad sandwich and a packet of crisps. Time set aside for home cooked meals was now spent on the train commuting in and out of the city. Lunches were taken at the desk while dinner became a sordid affair of frozen pizzas and, if we felt like splurging, Chinese take out.
I refused that idea. I couldn’t return to depressing desk lunches. I had discovered the joy of home cooked meals and eating quality food for lunch and dinner. I had an awakening for delicious meals, and a Sainsbo sandwich could not longer fulfil me. Why not enjoy a fresh stir fry with soy chicken? Or grilled salmon over a bed of white rice? Perhaps a bento box of assorted mini dishes - something my mother kindly used to make for me when I was office-based. In February, B and I lived together for a few weeks while I was on site for a filming project. Each night I cooked us something for work the next day: miso aubergine with bell peppers; a simple spaghetti bolognese; Mexican burrito bowls; and chicken wraps.
I don’t believe in the need to make meals extravagant, but I do believe in creating meals worth eating. It’s not always easy; preparing all of it takes time and sometimes a packet of pre-cooked pasta and a jar of sauce is all I can muster, but I aim to season it and give it some sort of flare. It’s often made all the worthwhile when B drops me a text to say that he’s devoured his lunch and that his boss is jealous of his home cooked meal. Feeding others is my love language, to nourish another person and fill their bellies with my cooking brings me unmeasured joy.
On long weekends, I pull out all the stops, using the extra hours of freedom to whip up new culinary delights: greek chicken with orzo and feta; a slow-cooked nine hour beef brisket; grilled scallops in basil butter; plump red tomatoes with burrata, dill and a flaked sea salt.
And even though I’m almost constantly standing over a bubbling pot on the stove; or peering into the oven; or cutting up courgettes and cucumbers for what feels like the umpteenth time — using up every single bowl, plate and spoon in the process — fussing over food fulfils me in a way that few things ever have.
What a beautiful post, Natalie. I'm on your wavelength with all of this - we had brisket for our weekend roast last night. Popped it into the slow cooker with six halved onions and nothing else at 8am when I left the house, having set the time clock on the plug socket to get it to start cooking on Low at 11.30. Went to work for the day, got back at five to an intoxicatingly beef-scented house, and carved it (practically with a spoon!) at 6.30pm. I love that kind of stuff! Made half of the leftovers into soup for next week's lunches, and stowed two meals' worth of what was left of the beef in the freezer - I'll be doing gingery beef noodles one night and stroganoff another.
I very much prefer cooking food I already own, rather than going out to eat (including a snatched sandwich on the run - nope, I'll always have a homemade lunch available, thanks).
Well, thanks to reading your gorgeously gourmet words, I've got serious scallop envy. Saving this post to read again and again until I can stand it no more and have to run to the fishmonger. 🤣
A slow-cooked nine hour beef brisket sounds mouthwatering. I’ve only had one brisket in my life, as they are not widely available here:(