Project planning, resource planning, location planning – I am the man with the plan.
So why then, does the simple task of trying to plan a week’s worth of food, fill me with such dread? Why do I approach the task as though my heart, my soul; my very existence will be sucked clean out of me if I do?
I’ve tried it on a number of occasions. I’ve used a variety of excuses to reattempt that most loathsome of exercises – we’ll save money if we buy in bulk; we’ll be more organised for Lauren if we don’t have to stop off at the shops on the way home.
Every time I plot out a week. Every time we get part way through the week; my gut instinct is to rip up the list and go off-piste. Pick something randomly off the shelves, just because it’s not on our list – our restrictive, soul crushing list.
I think the problem is that I hate the idea of a combination of meals across a full week in one go. It troubles me. I overstretch my boundaries, hampering the freedom of choice that comes from wants and desires. Writing a list, planning in your head what you might want does help shopping – but shouldn’t that just be about the staple items – your mince for a ragù, filled pasta, a bit of fish, meat – any kind of easy to cook, in 30 mins; pan to plate and everyone’s happy sort of food.
Leave the long hours, the even longer list of ingredients till the weekend – just fire out the meals you like, meals you can trust yourself to cook – in a night, without too much thought. Too many hours spent planning.
There is the risk that you may end up choosing to cook similar things every week – but at least you’ve made that choice; that day.
Surely that’s the important thing?