There's nothing like a simple weeknight meal. Now, I don't mean peanut butter (or sunbutter) straight out of the jar with a handful of potato chips, or peanut butter spread onto gluten-free bread with potato chips on the side, or even leftovers.
I'm talking about those gorgeous complete meals that come together in such a snap you feel like you must have cheated to get there. Everyone's happy, no one's hungry, and you have time left in the evening to, say, write a blog post.
I'm not the only one who loves these meals. Cookbooks are devoted to them; moms and dads sing their praises; and especially after Thanksgiving, I bet many of you in the US plan to fall back on them for a while.
But, although I believe these perfect meals exist, the formula eludes me. My "quick" meal ideas usually turn into inefficient, lengthy, messy, multiple-pot culinary odysseys. They taste good, but they take forever.
Since I got positive feedback the last time I shared a recipe, I thought I'd share this one with you, too. Your suggestions and criticisms are, as always, welcome. Maybe, with your help, I'll manage to complete a meal in 30 minutes…someday.
A Simple Weeknight Meal
Yields: 1 dinner, with leftovers (if you weren't so hungry by the time you finished that you ate it all), and 1 big mess
Prep time: 30 minutes to 4 hours, not counting time spent gathering inspiration on Pinterest (this section of recipes is always BS anyway)
Cook time: varies by recipe and other variables (including but not limited to evenness of pan heating, stove and oven hot spots, vegetable sizes, and altitude of your house), whose effects recipes rarely address and always underestimate
1 to 3 exhausted but ambitious cooks (see Notes)
1 recipe you've never tried before and plan to heavily adapt
1 to 2 additional recipes from which you'd like to draw inspiration (optional but highly recommended)
1 or more dietary restriction (again, optional but recommended—see Notes)
Optional garnishes: poor knife skills, inadequately stocked kitchen, multiple other things you intended to achieve that evening, and a low stress threshold
If this is you at the thought of cooking something, you're probably ready.
Photo © Brittney Bush Bollay | Flickr
- Prep half of the ingredients and leave the rest to peel, chop, slice, etc., later, when you'll be too distracted trying to stop the onions on the stove from burning to do either bit properly.
- Forget to preheat the oven, bring water to boil, or press the tofu until much, much later.
- Realize that you're missing one or more ingredients. Don't panic; instead, begin a lengthy debate over what in your cupboards might work as a substitute, with recourse to Google as necessary. If consensus cannot be reached, draw straws to decide who will "run out" to the store for the ingredient. Or give up and eat popcorn, since it's not like you've done much yet anyway.
- Assuming you're forging on with the meal, take a few minutes to select some appropriate musical accompaniment.
- Next you'll want to at least scrape the crud off of the cast-iron skillet that has been sitting on the stove since your last simple weeknight meal, unless the flavor profile was similar, in which case forget it.
- Start those onions sizzling while you check your bookmarks and open tabs for a side dish idea. Should one appear, start prepping ingredients for that, ideally before finishing what remains for the original recipe.
- Text the person who has gone off to the store to request a few more missing ingredients for the new recipe.
- Start adding water to the onions because they are seriously going to catch on fire and you can't believe you haven't finished mincing the garlic yet.
- Accept an incoming phone call and let the onions "brown" a little longer while you chat and attempt to cut up vegetables with the phone wedged against your shoulder.
- Jump guiltily when you hear your fellow cook at the door and tell the person on the other end that you're right in the middle of cooking and really can't talk. Pretend you only just picked up.
- If you are trying to prepare a gluten-free (or allergy-free, or vegan, or what-have-you) meal, inspect the package labels of the new ingredients and ask the buyer if he/she is sure this brand is safe. Regardless of the response, check the manufacturer's website yourself (with sneakiness to taste).
- Fend off any lingering impulse to just eat popcorn. Although you may not have accomplished much, per se, you're in too far to turn back now.
- Set your jaw in a grim line and turn your attention to prepping and cooking in earnest. Bicker as desired.
- Begin checking the clock and moaning about how late it has gotten and how this ALWAYS HAPPENS. Repeat until every shred of patience and good will has been used up.
- Let the assembled dish bake/reduce/thicken just as long as you can—invariably less than the specified time because you'll be too starving to care about taste or texture. Throw some plates on the table and serve immediately. (Optional: waste several seconds deciding between plates and bowls.)
- Enjoy while you can! Soon enough, you'll be doing it again. But better. (Optimism will keep in an airtight container indefinitely and is even better the next day.)
Adages bedarned, this method works best with more than one cook in the kitchen; two cooks can inspire each other to greater and more absurd heights of complexity, and having a partner will lend to each the sense of security that the total prep time will be halved. Three is most likely the upper limit, beyond which point differing tastes and colliding elbows create the danger that no meal will result at all. In a pinch, a single cook will do, particularly if said cook is a fan of Top Chef and/or plans to post about the meal on a blog.
A food processor is not recommended. Let's not baby ourselves.
Speaking of which…I myself do not have children, and therefore cannot vouch for them as an ingredient in this recipe. However, if you do add them to the mix, I suggest including such optional steps as teaching younguns to chop carrots (after starting the onions, mind) and taking breaks to nag older ones to do their homework and/or set the table.
If you eat meat, you may find it more difficult to stretch out the preparation process quite as interminably as I do. If you find yourself taking less than an hour to put together your meals, I strongly recommend vegetarianism.
Does this sound more or less like your own recipe for a simple weeknight meal, or have you mastered the formula? Share your tips and suggestions for actual simple meals in the comments or over at Based on a Sprue Story.