By Stanley Davies, Maths and Philosophy, First Year
Winter is hardly known for being a lively time. It does, admittedly, have a little chunk that can be terribly lively, but that chunk has just now concluded. What remains to be trudged through needn't be dwelt upon here.
For me, a pleasant little meal is the finest recourse to joy there can be. A common difficulty in achieving pleasant meals may not be a lack of inspiration, recipes, or ingredients, but rather the crushing monotony of having to produce something every day. Upon arriving in the kitchen, the grand plans can seem to gently dissipate from one's mind, and a quick bowl of something with a big sit down can retail itself as much more attractive. So what to do?
I could very easily trot out the usual suspects - meal prep, focusing on ingredients, etc - but it would be dishonest of me to do so. I enjoy cooking, and so do commit a great deal of time to it. For me, the key is that this time needn't be spent in the kitchen.
When in the library and perplexed by the frankly ridiculous symbols on my page (I do maths), I sometimes like to lean back, look out the window, and consider what I will make for dinner. It is a momentary reprieve to refresh the mind, that concludes with a note in the margin of my book - stew, those spuds that are on the turn, buy fennel bulb en route home, ... that gives me something to look forward to. With this, I bring myself a soothing scrap of joy, and the symbols on the page start to seem less absurd.
At the supermarket (buying that fennel bulb perhaps - though I might be more tempted to occasion a greengrocer for such a thing), it is important to keep a keen eye open. I like to look at what else is for sale. Perhaps I shall change my mind as I spot that yellow sticker, thus finding a leek, courgette, or red pepper to be more suitable than that fennel bulb. Perhaps I shall merely think of something to do another time - that sweet potato looks good, but I need to use this ordinary one that's currently on life support in my cupboard, so sweet potato someday soon.
Grace Golby
I think it is worthwhile to always look at the herbs and spices. Unlike in my cupboard, in the supermarket they are organised and I can see them all. My eye catches 'mace' (of which there is half a jar at home), and I remember how well that goes in porridge. Breakfast sorted. I see tarragon, and am cheerfully reminded of the sweet potato. In a few days time, I'll probably be all over that little harmony. A shop needn’t merely be a space to purchase things, it can be a source of inspiration, and a jolly little wander too. If you enter the shop with a strict list and march around ticking off items, then you miss out on half the fun.
Ingredients in hand, I may commit a lot or a little time in the kitchen. Either way, it doesn't matter much. The meal I end up with will sustain me, and a winter's day has been made that little bit more characterful already. Giving meals a bit of space in your brain and day does wonders for its creativity. Give it a go, and you might just surprise yourself with what you come out with.
Featured image: Epigram / Stanley Davies
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