I
hate making dinner. Even if I have good intentions, I run out of
steam by late afternoon. As a result, we eat out way too often, and
when we eat at home we stick to the same few recipes.
How
can I motivate myself to cook a nice dinner for my family each night?
Answer:
I
don’t like making dinner, either. I don’t find it
relaxing, rewarding or rejuvenating. To me, it is more an exercise in
futility: spending an hour making a mess of the kitchen in the hope
that someone in the family will like what I’ve made and not
complain about eating the vegetables. Then I get to clean it all up.
However,
I acknowledge that providing reasonably nutritious meals for oneself
and one’s family is an important parental duty. Unless you are
able to eat out or order in every time you are hungry, the house must
be stocked with food for the people who live there.
So
I will now share the system I use to get meals on the table each
night.
First,
I don’t worry about motivation. To me, motivation has nothing
to do with making dinner. I don’t have to feel any particular
emotion to brown some beef or slice zucchini. It has to be done no
matter how I feel. In fact, instead of thinking about the dinner as I
make it, I like to think about something else. Like an audiobook.
Second,
I put on my apron. An apron is the appropriate uniform for cooking.
It protects your clothing and focuses the mind. It also signals to
your and the neighbor children that you are working.
Third,
I clear the kitchen. A rule in our house is that no one can play in
or run through the kitchen while I’m making dinner. It’s
a small kitchen, and I cannot make dinner with small boys and small
cars whizzing around my ankles and knees.
If
a child wants to help make dinner, of course, I happily include him.
You should never refuse a child’s offer of help, even if the
help is not actually helpful. But unless the child is helping, having
a conversation with me, or doing something constructive that does not
get in the way of dinner preparations, he is shooed out of the
kitchen, preferably into the yard to run around until dinner is
ready.
When
the kitchen has been cleared, I put on an audiobook. I listen through
either a portable speaker or headphones. I use the same
secure-fitting headphones for cooking as for jogging so I don’t
have to adjust them as I work. I tuck the cord into my apron so the
cord doesn’t catch on anything and yank the buds out of my
ears.
Fourth,
once my apron and audiobook are on and the kitchen is cleared of
boistrosity, I consult the meal plan on my refrigerator. Then, I make
whatever is on the schedule.
To
a real cook, this would probably be a soul-killing restraint on
creativity and spontaneity. But my main obstacle to making dinner is
deciding what to have. And the only solution I have found to this
problem is to plan two weeks of meals at a time.
This
is not as easy as it sounds. You can’t just sit down and write
out fourteen things you like to eat. Or fourteen new recipes you want
to try. Instead, you have to consider the flow of foods from night to
night. Nobody wants to eat chicken or pasta four nights in a row. I
try about one new recipe a week, and I don’t choose
time-consuming recipes more than once a week.
I
also consider our family schedule. I plan faster meals on nights when
we have other commitments. And since we’re usually tired of
making dinner by the end of the week, we eat frozen pizza on Friday
night.
Planning
a two-week menu can take an absurdly long time. I pull out my
cookbooks, recipe binder, and tablet, and consult my master list of
“Foods We Like.” For each day, I write down a main dish,
a vegetable, a starchy item, and whatever else I think would balance
or complete the meal. I also write down the cookbook name and page
number, or website where I can find the recipe.
This
process may take you more than an hour, especially at first. But at
the end, you will have a plan for the next two weeks and a grocery
list. I make a long list of items to buy before the first week
starts, and a short list of perishable items to buy before the second
week starts.
Fifth,
I make everybody’s favorite meal sometimes, even if the rest of
the family doesn’t really care for it. My eight-year-old loves
stroganoff made with ground beef and canned cream of mushroom soup,
so I make it for him from time to time even though my husband doesn’t
like it. I include myself in this favorite-food rotation, too. And I
explain to the children that eating foods they don’t like is
good mission prep.
However,
each family member gets a free pass on certain things. My
six-year-old is excused from eating potatoes. My eight-year-old is
excused from spicy foods. My husband, of course, being an adult, is
outside of my jurisdiction to command. He is, however, of his own
accord, a good sport about eating meals he doesn’t really like
and about eating vegetables in front of the children.
Sixth,
I ignore people who disdain canned cream soups, store bought salsa
and white rice. In my opinion, if it’s hard for you to make
dinner, you shouldn’t make it harder by imposing foodie
regulations on yourself.
You’re
not cooking to impress anyone. You’re cooking to put dinner on
the table. So if you like foods made with unsophisticated
ingredients, go for it. Making dinner is step one. Making politically
correct dinner is a task for another day.
Seventh,
I think it’s important to have the right tools. It is beyond
frustrating to try to cook a meal when you don’t have knives
that chop or a pot big enough to boil the pasta. You don’t need
top-of-the-line kitchen equipment or a giant set of cookware. But you
do need pots and pans that cook evenly without burning, sharp knives,
and adequate measuring tools, mixing bowls, cutting boards, spatulas
and the like.
Don’t
make life harder than it has to be by unnecessarily economizing on
the tools you use every day to perform an essential household
function. Spend some money to get what you need.
Eighth,
I clean as I go. If you wipe up spills, put away ingredients, wash
knives, rinse out pans and throw away trash as you cook, you greatly
reduce the mess left over for after the meal. Also, you can enjoy
your meal more because the kitchen is not a disaster.
Ninth,
once dinner is ready we eat together at the table. This is the part
of making dinner that I like. The children help set the table, and
once the meal begins, they are expected to try everything, to not
complain, to use nice manners, and to sit there pleasantly until they
have been excused. Once they are excused, they clear their plates to
the sink.
My
husband is not home for dinner during the week, so we have family
dinner without him. On the weekend, however, he helps prepare the
meals and we eat together.
Finally,
making dinner, like ironing and jogging and doing the Primary music,
takes practice. People who seem like naturally good cooks are usually
people who have done it enough to develop skills. And although
practice will probably not transform you into a person who loves to
cook delicious meals for your family, it will make the process
easier.
Do
you have a quandary, conundrum, or sticky situation in your life?
Click this button to drop Cyndie a line, and she’ll be happy to
answer your question in a future column. Any topic is welcome!
Cynthia Munk Swindlehurst spent her childhood in New Hampshire and her
adolescence in San Diego. She served a mission in Manaus Brazil. She
graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in English and from
Duke University with a law degree.
She practiced law until her first child was born. She enjoys reading, tap
dancing, and discussing current events. She and her husband live in
Greensboro, North Carolina with their two sons.
Cyndie serves as the Sunbeams teacher in her ward.