A few months ago, the Cumings family was in a deep dinner time rut. The same question waited at the end of each day: “What should we do for supper tonight?”
Finally, I’d had enough.
“Meal planning!” I shouted one day. “It’s time to get back to meal planning!” (Pro Tip: “Shouted” is a relative term.)
I turned to my most trusted cookbook: Moosewood Restaurant Simple Suppers: Fresh Ideas for the Weeknight Table. I got this cookbook when Mike and I were first married, and opening it up again was surprisingly affirming. It reminded me that there was a time when I did plan meals. And cook them. And everybody ate them with no whining and no complaining and no meltdowns at all. (Because “everybody” was “me and Mike.” But still.)
Now, I have not wholly converted to a meal planning maven. But I have rediscovered the joy of cooking, and the relief of having an answer to The Supper Question before 5:30 rolls around.
My most favorite simple supper these days is Roasted Ratatouille. Which is just a fancy way of saying, “chop up whatever vegetables you like; toss them with olive oil, salt, and pepper; roast them at 450 for 35 to 40 minutes, stirring after 15; toss them with fresh basil when they’re done and eat them right up!”
We spoon them onto toasted baguettes with cheese. I try to make enough for leftovers during the week: in quesadillas, in eggs, on their own. It is so delicious and so easy, but it feels like a revelation all the same.
What’s cooking at your place?