My third week of#cook90was easier than my second, and I know exactly why. It was a choice I made at the start of the week, on Sunday. I sat down in my kitchen with a notebook. I drew a chart—days of the week on the X axis, meals of the day on the Y—and wrote down everything I was going to cook for the week. Then I went shopping (online).
I know you've heard this advice before, and you have probably rolled your eyes at it, either because it's so dang obvious or because you think a big, weekly shop isn't necessary for easy cooking. But unless you're actually doing a big shop every week, you're experiencing consequences.
Monday might be fine, because you'll simply rummage through your pantry. On Tuesday you might have Monday's leftovers. But by Wednesday you'll have an empty kitchen. That's when the lunchtime anxiety attacks will start.If I don't go to the store after work today I'll starve,you'll think. And that's exactly right. Should have done a big shop!
Now, I've heard rumors that Europeans don't do big shops. Their fridges are too small or something. I know that most of Europe operates with a 25-hour work week, and yet I still do not understand why they would choose to shop every day. What time are these people eating dinner? 10pm? And are they watchingEurovisionwhile they eat? I really do not understand Europe.
Maybe,maybe, I can see this working in Italy, where the cooking is simple and quick and often uses just a handful of ingredients. After all, Italian food is the only way I was able to get through my week-without-a-big-shop. I atesimple bowls of beanswith olive oil, andpasta tossed with a no-cook sauce of lemon, anchovies, and tuna. Good dinners, and fast, but imagine how much faster they would have been had I not spent 20 minutes in the erroneously-named express lane at Whole Foods earlier that night.
When I plan what I'm cooking I'm more likely to cook a good variety of foods (vegetarian Indian one night, a meaty pasta the next). And when I have all the ingredients for the week already in my kitchen, I can take little actions that help me cook faster. I might throw some lamb chops in a marinade before I leave for work, for example. Or I'll wash more herbs than I need at night, knowing that I intend to use some in my eggs the next morning. Sometimes the prep is simply mental: I'll go through the steps of the recipe in my head on my commute home. Then, when I arrive in my kitchen, I can slip into a happy autopilot. I'll chop garlic, trim chicken, open a can of tomatoes. And while I waited for the chicken to roast, I'll open my notebook again, and plan what I'm going to cook next week.
