
When I was growing up, I remember my mum as an excellent and adventurous cook.
She put dinner on the table every night, and it was always delicious, cooked from scratch, made with love. She stayed up to date with what was new and interesting in the culinary world, without being too faddish. She made curries from Madhur Jaffrey's books, and cut recipes out of the Good Weekend and tried them.
I was surprised when I once heard her say to my aunt something to the effect of, "It's not the cooking I mind, it's the deciding. I hate choosing what to make every night".
As a kid I couldn't understand that.
Imagine being in charge! Imagine the heady power of deciding whether we were having schnitzel or meatloaf!
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Now, 15 years into being the main cook and co-menu-planner for my own household, I get it. I get it so hard. I am so tired of dinner. I don't even have particularly fussy eaters, though they definitely have their preferences.
I just can't face another week when we sit down on Sunday night and decide, once again, which order the five or six dinners in our current rotation will be served in.
Will it be Spaghetti Bolognese on Monday or Wednesday?