When I was a kid, ‘what’s for dinner?’ was usually the first thing my brothers and I asked upon greeting Mum at the school gate at 3.30pm. Her audible sigh usually told us she hadn’t decided yet, and we were all quick to put in our two cents worth about what we might like to eat that evening.

‘I think we should have meatloaf’
‘I think we should have pizza’
‘I think we should have ice cream’

We would call past the supermarket on the way home, and, as we should, often ended up with meat and three veg. A chop or a piece of chicken, accompanied by a potato, carrots and broccoli was easy and quick (AND nutritionally balanced!). After all, its not like Mum didn’t have other things to do, like running a business or cleaning the house.

When I first moved out of home, I used to cook a lot. I even used recipes. I had a housemate who didn’t mind my cooking and a job not so far from home that it was a stretch to cook every night. And I liked it! You might even remember that when I started this blog, nearly 4 years ago, I posted recipes and about how much I loved food. And then I moved into a house by myself.

Over the past years, my capacity to cook diminished. My social life took over and on the nights when I was at home, throwing a box in the microwave was about all I could muster. A little part of me felt like I’d failed as a girl. A la Carrie Bradshaw, I was far more likely to keep sweaters in my oven and there was an entire shelf of my pantry dedicated to 2 minute microwave Thai. I was a traitor to my gender.

Now I live with my partner, and I can completely understand exactly how my mother felt when I was a kid. Exactly what the hell am I going to make for dinner? I suspect I won’t be very popular if I serve microwave Thai, or toast (which are my most common go to meals), but I certainly lack the enthusiasm and imagination to come up with something different three to four nights a week (unless I was to put bacon on it. Then I think he’d eat whatever I put in front of him).

Crumbed chicken? Had that last week. Lasange? Planning that for Saturday. Steak? Ate at the pub last night. 

If only serving to worsen this situation is that fact that my partner can actually cook. Really well. He can throw a handful of herbs into a pot and serve up a stunning creation 30 minutes later while i’m still trying to get the lid off a jar clearly manufactured to be sold to someone with more arm strength than I. And I can’t even reach the spice rack in our kitchen. (Clearly a man designed that, too.)

So it comes to pass that I’m sitting here pondering again what I’m going to put on the table tonight. Where are those take away brochures again?