We've become a society of foodies, to a certain extent. We've developed this notion that meals should be over-the-top, fantabulous, culinary delights. Well, frankly, I don't think food needs to be fantastic to be a good meal.
In our house, we eat quite a few humble, but delicious, meals every week. Sometimes we have pancakes, sometimes we have baked beans, sometimes a meal of plain baked chicken, and tonight, it's peanut butter sandwiches and fruit. None of these meals would star on the cover of Bon Appetit. But when you're truly hungry, and have no time or energy to cook, a simple meal tastes fantastic.
I think one of the best meals I ever had, was at the end of a long day, driving to my sister-in-law's house. We'd encountered a freak storm en route, followed by rush-hour traffic getting into the city. What should have been a 3-hour tour (key Gilligan's Island theme song), turned into a harrowing, at times, 5 1/2 hour nightmare. When we tumbled out of our car, very road weary, then trudged into her kitchen, she had a most delicious meal of pot roast, mashed potatoes and salad waiting for us. Everything tasted especially good. And we didn't hesitate to tell her so, to which she followed up repeatedly, "it's just pot roast and potatoes". You see our sense of taste was heightened by intense appetites. Did you read the Little House books? In one of the books, a visitor complimented Ma on her cooking. Her reply was, "hunger is the best sauce".
There is so much truth in this. When we are actually hungry, we eat voraciously, regardless of what is served. In fact, according to BBC News, a study at the University of Malawi found that taste buds are stimulated by hunger. Food actually tastes better when we are hungry. Anyone who's been on a calorie-restricted diet knows this.
So, why is it that magazines and cookbooks have us believing that every meal we prepare for our families, must be gourmet? Perhaps because a recipe for Poulet Gourmet of the Day would sell more copies of a cookbook or mag, than say a recipe for plain baked chicken. I don't know about you, but I only need one cookbook that tells me how to bake plain chicken. So where's the repeat consumerism if I only need one, lone cookbook?
Most of what I prepare for dinner, I learned from my mother. Throughout history, this is how most women learned to cook. They didn't need cookbooks. They didn't need a book filled with 50 ways to prepare squab or rabbit or venison. The one way their mothers had always made it was enough for their repertoire. My mother's meals were delicious, yet most would not satisfy today's foodies.
I'm not against gourmet meals. I enjoy them too. But I don't let myself feel guilty or inadequate, if our family dinners are humble meals. And I don't think you should either. If time, or energy, or cost allow just a modest meal, then so be it. Your family will be grateful you cooked for them. And the long-term memories of the family table will not be about what was on the plate, but about the conversations, the laughs, the love and joy they always felt when they pulled up their chair.
