Since going out every night to the Thai restaurant next door is out of the question, I've tried to do a little light cooking in our corporate flat. It seems a shame not to use the little cooking utensils and graters and whatnot that's so thoughtfully provided for. I even have a colander. So I try to make dinner when I can despite of having so little counter space that the cutting board takes up all of it. Seriously. And it's just a wee little cutting board.
The funny thing is that I've always been under the impression that in order to "make dinner,", you need to pick out a recipe, buy all the requisite proteins and vegetables and spices and herbs and what have you and proceed to dice, slice and chop the bejesus out of everything until something palatable (hopefully) makes it to the dining table.
However, if you go to the local grocery by our house, there's more ready-to-cook meals than actual cooking components. There are about three shelves devoted to raw chicken breast and ground beef while there's an entire aisle chock full of ready-to-cook dinners. Want to make chicken parmesan from scratch? Too bad, since the only seasoning that's available is salt. No pepper, just salt. No balsamic vinegar, just salt. That's right, just salt. But if you want to make chicken tikka masala, well, you're in luck since there's five different ready-to-cook kinds just begging you to choose them.
The ready-to-cook meals aren't bad, and they sure do take the work out of cooking, but I feel a bit of a cheat. Cooking is supposed to be a labor of love, isn't it? It's hard to gloat over something you stuck in the oven for six minutes. And it's a programmable oven so I don't even need to figure out the temperature or time. I just punch in what I'm cooking, and the oven takes over. So that's it, I've been rendered superfluous by Marks & Spencer's food hall and a fan-assisted oven.
At least I'm not going to have any ready-to-cook meals at my pity party.
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