Wayback Machine: Roasted Chickpeas - Right Way, Wrong Way

Sweet readers, we're taking the week off to catch up on some real-life work. In the meantime, we're re-posting some of our favorite recipes and essays. This one is from April 2008. Enjoy!

Mornin’ everybody! Hope y’all had a lovely weekend, and that the weather was half as nice as it was here in Brooklyn: blooming trees, perfect skies, visible patch of grass – the whole nine. Even our neighborhood Incredibly Frightening Drunk Who Hangs Out 24-7 at the Last Remaining Pay Phone on Earth was suitably enchanted.

My weekend was fantastic, spoiled only briefly by a botched attempt at Roasted Chickpeas. I got ‘em right the second time around, but wanted to transcribe the wrong directions, just in case anyone ever attempts them. Here goes:

1) Comb Food Blog Search for acceptable Roasted Chickpea recipe.

2) Settle on Roasted Chickpeas at Anne’s Food. Revel in Scandinavian…ness, as she is fellow Swede.

3) Resolve to visit Sweden, see if everyone is really blonde/lithe.

4) Rinse and dry chickpeas. Place on cookie sheet. Place in preheated 425ºF oven.

5) As chickpeas roast, play Scrabulous with friend F. Watch in horror as F spells “EQUATES” and “SLUGGED” one after the other, scoring 86 and 79 points, respectively.

6) Retaliate with “NOOSE,” as F has just essentially hanged you.

7) Resolve to start socializing with dumber people.

8) Attempt to remove chickpeas from roasting vessel. Instead, spill entire pan in oven.

9) Gnash teeth. Traumatize backyard squirrel with volume of yelled obscenities.

10) One by one, painstakingly pick 150 chickpeas out of ancient, formerly scorching oven, taking care not to burn digits and/or face off by accidentally leaning on blazing surface.

11) Burn digit and/or face off by accidentally leaning on blazing surface.

12) Yell more obscenities. Resolve to enroll backyard squirrel in therapy.

13) Realize (with horror) oven has not been cleaned since the Paleozoic era.

14) Resolve to clean oven.

15) Realize you will never clean oven.

16) Resolve to get roommate to clean oven.

17) Realize roommate will never, ever clean oven, as roommate rarely cleans anything.

18) Ponder life.

19) Attempt recipe again, using correct directions (listed below).

20) Succeed!

21) Lose Scrabulous by record 4 billion points. Remain happy due to ultra-cheap, highly tasty chickpea recipe.

Roasted Chickpeas
4 servings
Adapted from Anne's Food.

1 14.5 oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 teaspoon olive oil
¼ - ½ teaspoon salt (1/2 will be very salty. - Kris)
5 dashes cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon cumin

1) Preheat oven to 425°F.

2) Place chickpeas on baking/cookie sheet. Roast for 10 minutes. Shake the pan. (Do not spill on kitchen floor.) Roast another 10 minutes.

3) In a medium bowl, combine chickpeas, oil, salt, and spices. Stir well to combine.

4) Spread chickpeas back out on baking sheet. Roast between 5 and 15 more minutes, until they're browned and super crunchy. Serve.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
135 calories, 4.3 g fat, $0.15

Calculations
1 14.5 oz can chickpeas: 500 calories, 4.8 g fat, $0.50
1 teaspoon olive oil: 39 calories, 4.5 g fat, $0.03
¼ - ½ teaspoon salt: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
5 dashes cayenne pepper: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
1 teaspoon cumin: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
TOTAL: 539 calories, 9.3 g fat, $0.58
PER SERVING: 135 calories, 4.3 g fat, $0.15

Playin' Hooky

Sweet Readers,

Jaime, Leigh, and I are taking the week to play hooky, a.k.a. Catch Up With Real-life Work Stuff. But don't touch that dial! (Type that other URL?) We'll be posting some of our favorite recipes from the archives, which your face won't want to miss out on.

Hope you have a lovely week, and we'll see you Monday!

Kris

5 Ways to Get Your Parents (Or Anyone, Really) to Try New Foods

We've all been there with our parents – the same ol' restaurant, with the same ol' menu– because they're reluctant to try something new, strange, or simply unappealing. And there's nothing intrinsically wrong with that, per se. People like what they like, and odds are, your parents' eating habits have been pretty set for decades.

But wouldn't it be nice to try something else for a change?

Convincing your folks to move on to new cuisines and cultures can be a wonderful experience for all involved, and not just because kimchee is awesome. "Ethnic" foods, or foods found outside your traditional cuisine, are frequently:

• Less expensive: When HOTUS and I order Chinese takeout, we can turn $15 into dinner that night and lunch for the office the next day. While not as cheap as home cooking, it's darn comparable.
• Healthier: Okay, so the ghee (clarified butter) in Chicken Korma won't put it on the happy side of the Eat This, Not That list, but non-traditional dishes can often pack in vegetables, lean cuts of meat, and healthy oils. Compared especially to most American-style restaurant meals, ethnic food is frequently a lighter choice.
• Educational: By eating foods outside of your customary cultural cuisine, you're exposing yourself to a new world of ingredients, flavor combinations, and styles of preparation, which you can then implement at home.
• Delicious: Mmm. Take two bites of baba ghanoush and call me in the morning.

But then again, we're not talking about you here, are we? We're talking about your parents – wonderful people, to be sure, but not necessarily the most daring of eaters. So, how can you get your beloved Ma and Pa to dig into falafel, injera bread, and even sushi (or "bait," as a certain family member calls it)? Try five these strategies:

1) Pay for it. Sometimes, older folks (actually, any folks) simply don't want to blow money on something they're not sure they'll like. So, pick an inexpensive restaurant and treat 'em. Think of it as an adventure you don't need hiking boots for.

2) Start at home. Prepping a meal for mom? Throw in a teriyaki side dish or a plate of pierogies. By surrounding a new food with ones she likes, it may seem more approachable.

3) Order a gateway food. Introducing your parents to a mild dish – one with a less-assertive flavor, similar to a recipe they might already love. Pad Thai is way Americanized, but it's an effective tool for getting reluctant eaters into more daring Thai Food. For me, lassis and samosas were the gateway dishes to a lot of delicious Indian cuisine.

• SPECIAL NOTE: This can be a way effective strategy for people with an aversion to spice, which was probably the most-cited fear in yesterday's Ask the Internet comments. Feeding your parents a super-mild quesadilla proves to them that all Mexican food isn't a five-alarm chili, which could encourage them to attempt other dishes.

4) Embrace media. This might sound lame (I hope not), but for many folks, seeing a dish in a magazine, on a TV show, or at the movies – when it's been styled and served in the best possible light by super-attractive people – can make it seem tremendously appealing. I wonder how many parents wanted an Italian meal after watching Julia Roberts slurp spaghetti in Eat Pray Love? Or how many folks decided Indian food could be super-awesome after 30 minutes of Aarti's Party? Or how many moms and dads tried matzoh ball soup for the first time after seeing a glossy photo in Saveur? Probably a lot.

5) Know when to accept defeat. My dad will never, ever, ever develop a love of curry, no matter how many "mmm … slurp … ahhh" sounds I make while eating a big ol' bowl of it. And that is totally, 100% fine. Not everyone has similar tastes, and pushing a loved one too hard can (seriously) get pretty annoying. Food should be a joy, not a struggle. Move on.

Opening parents - and anyone, really - up to new cuisines, and as a result, new cultures, is something from which we can all benefit. Happy eating.

Readers? Comments? Questions? Suggestions? Fire away.

~~~

If you enjoyed this read, you might also dig:

• Healthy Takeout on a Budget
• Learning to Love Foods You Hate: A How-To Guide for Frugal Eaters
• Serving Sizes and Portion Control: A Primer

Green Kitchen: The Cheap Healthy Guide to Canned Tuna for the Planet and Your Mouth (or Something)

Green Kitchen is a bi-weekly column about nutritious, inexpensive, and ethical food and cooking. It's penned by the lovely Jaime Green.

Eating delicious meat cheaply and environmentally is not easy. Grass-fed beef often starts at $7 or $8 a pound in New York City, and shows up twice or three times that at the farmers market. Fresh and frozen fish see the same price points, as do pork and lamb.Chicken is cheaper but chicken gets boring.

Which brings us to my recent love affair with canned tuna.

It is full of protein, super-cheap, easy to prepare, and does not send my fish-allergic boyfriend into fits with its cooking fumes. But while my local Whole Foods handily grades its butchered meat and fresh fish, cans of tuna are harder to suss out.

Well, harder to suss out unless you’re at a computer. The Environmental Defense Fund has a handy ranking of seafood choices based on eco-friendliness, and canned tuna is included. (The fish’s page also includes health concerns for adults and children, related to tuna’s mercury content.)

Canned tuna tends to come in two varieties – Albacore, or white, and “light,” which can be one (or several) of several tuna varieties. When it comes to what’s good for the planet, US or Canadian Albacore is tops, with general canned white and canned light both scoring the “eco-ok” middle rating.

In terms of mercury content, Albacore’s is higher, and so should be consumed less frequently, especially by kids. (The EDF recommends children under 6 eat it no more than once a month, and sets the limit for kids 6-12 at twice a month. Adults can handle it more often more safely.) Canned light (as long as the label doesn’t include Yellowfin tuna, which has about the same mercury as Albacore) is okay for younger kids about three times a month, and once a week or so for older children.

(The EDF page on mercury in canned tuna recommends canned salmon as a healthier option – "not only because the fish are low in contaminants and high in heart-healthy omega-3s, but also because they are sustainably caught” – but I haven’t fallen in love with that taste yet.)

I was relieved to learn – admitted months after getting back into the tuna habit – that this convenient can really isn’t such a bad option. (I’m not feeding any babies nor planning on gestating one any time soon.)

There is, of course, also the issue of taste.

I’d been buying store-brand canned tuna from Whole Foods, mostly out of a mostly-blind-faith sense that their fish would be more sustainability-minded than the StarKist or whatever I could get at my local supermarket, and for $1.39 a can (versus 99 cents or so), it wasn’t too bad a price. (According to Whole Foods’ website, both of their tuna varieties are caught responsibly, and are relatively low in mercury.)

But then I started worrying that I was a snob. And chunk light tuna was on sale for 75 cents a can at the supermarket. I bought two.

I kinda wish I’d saved that second seventy-five cents.

Whereas my fancy-pants Whole Foods tuna shows its extra 64 cents in nice chunks of recognizable fish flesh and easily drained water, the cheapo can started to splurt out fish puree as soon as I tried to drain it mid-can-opening. Inside that (five-ounce, rather than WF’s six) can I found fishy mush. It tasted okay, though the texture was alarming, and why does a can of tuna need vegetable broth in the ingredients? I will be sticking to my ever-so-slightly pricier chunk tuna from now on, thank you. And enjoying it (not too many times in a week) guilt-free.

Although I’m a big fan of standard tuna salad (with, sorry Kris, mayo, and plenty of diced celery), I’m always looking for ways to do it different, and with more vegetables. This recipe from TheKitchn scores on both counts – shredded raw cabbage adds a great crispness, and fresh herbs makes everything springy. I changed the original up a bit, first of all using one can of tuna for one big, healthy, satisfying serving, and second choosing dill over chives. (It was what I had on hand, it is delicious, and it goes well with the yogurt that subs in for some mayo. Kris, you’re welcome.)

I’ll probably slow down my tuna habit a bit now for mercury concerns, but when I do go for it, this is a super-easy and healthy way to appreciate – and eat – that beloved chicken of the sea. Especially when I’m a little sick of land-chicken.

~~~

If this looks good, you'll love:

• Herbed Tuna in Tomatoes
• Tuna and White Bean Wraps
• White Bean and Roasted Red Pepper Wraps with Spinach

~~~

Crisp Cabbage and Tuna Salad
Serves 1
Adapted from TheKitchn.

1 5- or 6-can of tuna, drained (calculations reflect Whole Foods Tongol tuna)
1/4 a medium head of cabbage, cored chopped finely (about two cups)
1 ½ T mayonnaise (you could use reduced-fat to save calories, but don’t lie, it tastes awful)
2 T Greek yogurt (I used 2% fat)
1/3-1/4 c chopped dill
salt and ground pepper to taste (this works well with a lot of pepper)

1) Combine everything in a bowl.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, Protein, and Price Per Serving
335 calories, 17.1g fat, 4.5g fiber, 32.9g protein, $2.04

Calculations
1 6-ounce can of tuna: 120 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 28g protein, $1.39
1/4 medium cabbage: 44 calories, 0g fat, 4.4g fiber, 2.3g protein, $0.25
1 1/2 T mayonnaise: 150 calories, 16.5g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.10
2 T 2% fat Greek yogurt: 19 calories, 0.6g fat, 0g fiber, 2.5g protein, $0.20
1/4 c dill: 2 calories, 0g fat, 0.1g fiber, 0.1g protein, $0.08
Salt and pepper: 0 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.02
TOTAL: 335 calories, 17.1g fat, 4.5g fiber, 32.9g protein, $2.04
PER SERVING: 335 calories, 17.1g fat, 4.5g fiber, 32.9g protein, $2.04

Ask the Internet: Parents and Ethnic Food

ETA @ 4:40pm EST: You guys, I'm an idiot, and I should have phrased this differently, to be more inclusive of various cultures. (Something like what commenter frabjous suggested: "Do your parents eat foods from cultural traditions other than their own") I apologize, and hope we can re-consider the question from that point of view.

Today's question comes from the new knowledge that my mom likes Thai Peanut Curry. It's actually many questions, but I think it could lead to an interesting discussion.

Q: Do your parents eat at ethnic (meaning: not traditional American-style) restaurants? If so, what kind, and how did the change come about? If not, are you trying to expand their palates? How?

Wiki's Jucember

A: Native New Yorkers both, my parents grew up with the occasional ethnic meal, usually Italian or Irish. As they grew older, Chinese dishes crept into their diets, and nowadays, they're crazy about Thai food. I'd love to get them into Japanese or Indian, but my dad's aversion to curry and raw fish might prevent that from ever happening. This has translated somewhat into their homecooking, mostly through Italian- and Chinese-style dishes.

So, what about you guys?

Note: I'd like to focus specifically on parents, and/or people whose eating styles have been entrenched for a few decades. Might turn the responses into tomorrow's post...

Want to ask the interweb a question? Post one in the comment section, or write to Cheaphealthygood@gmail.com. Then, tune in next Tuesday for an answer/several answers from the good people of the World Wide Net.

Eggplant and White Bean Soup, Alanis, and Me

In the autumn of 1996, I heard Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” approximately 12,457,233 times.

(In the years following, the only tunes that came close to that number were the Goo Goo Dolls “Iris,” “Smooth” by Carlos Santana and Rob Thomas, and that godawful Nickelback song that you couldn’t escape if you blew off your ears, stuffed socks in the resulting head wounds, and then set those socks on fire.)

Like every other not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman at the close of the 20th century, Alanis appealed greatly to me. Her voice was rockin’, her hair was pretty, and I totally let it pass when she mistook irony for sheer bad luck. But even I, a headstrong Labatt’s lover who listened to the first track from Jagged Little Pill as if it held all the secrets of the universe, grew tired of Alanis after awhile. It wasn’t anything she did. It was just … her songs, though strong, were mercilessly overplayed. It got so bad that my friends would switch the radio station when “You Oughta Know” came on, because – really? Dave Coulier? In a theater? Cut. It. Out.

Time passed. I graduated, got a job, started dating this guy. Several guys, even.

And then, years later, right around the time she released her cover of Black-Eyed Peas “My Humps” (a song surely co-written by Satan), I got to digging Alanis again. Like an old friend who had gone away to grad school in Saskatchewan, it was really nice to see her happy, not to mention gleefully taking the piss out of herself. Plus, I don’t think I had heard “Ironic” in about a year, so that helped.

Eggplant is like Alanis.

Hear me out here. About two years ago, it seemed as if every other recipe I tried involved eggplant. Its versatility and low cost were tremendously appealing, as was the idea that it could actually taste good. An eggplant hater early in life, I discovered its purple majesty far too late, and wanted to make up for lost time. After awhile, though, I started getting a little sick of the vegetable, and as a result, didn't go near it – in any form – for months and months.

Then, last week, this recipe for Eggplant and White Bean Soup appeared at stonesoup. Eggplants aren’t quite in season in the U.S., but that creamy, fibery, deeply flavored-looking concoction was just too tempting.

So, I made it last night, following Jules’ original recipe fairly closely, with one big exception: Instead of using the bean juice for the soup broth, I subbed in chicken stock. Not having tasted the bean juice version, I can’t definitively say the stock variation is better, but it was dang good. Dang good. Like, Alanis-good. And with it, I've arrived back in Eggplantville.

Isn't it ironic?

~~~

If you like this, you’ll love:

• Broiled Eggplant Japonais
• Pasta e Fagioli
• Roasted Eggplant Spread

~~~

Eggplant and White Bean Soup
Serves 2 or 3
Adapted from stonesoup.

1 eggplant, sliced in half lengthwise
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 large onion, chopped
1 can cannelini or small white beans, drained and rinsed
3/4 cup chicken broth, plus another 3/4 cup set aside
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1) Heat oven to 425 degrees F. Line baking sheet with aluminum foil and spray with Pam. Place eggplant cut-side down on foil and bake 25-30 minutes, until eggplant is tender and a little browned on the exposed flesh. Remove from oven and set aside until cool enough to handle.

2) Meanwhile, heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook until soft and lightly browned, about 15 minutes. Add beans and 3/4 cup chicken broth. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 10 minutes.

3) Scrape insides of eggplant halves into bean mixture. Heat for 1 or 2 minutes. Using a hand blender or a regular blender, puree into desired consistency. (Be very careful if using a regular blender that it doesn’t splash.) Add more chicken broth if you’d like it soupier. Salt and pepper to taste. Stir in lemon juice and serve.

NOTE: This can easily be made into a vegetarian/vegan soup by using vegetable broth. Try it!

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, Protein, and Price Per Serving
2 servings: 349 calories, 9.6 g fat, 20.4 g fiber, 19.6 g protein, $1.64
3 servings: 232 calories, 6.4 g fat, 13.6 g fiber, 13.1 g protein, $1.09

Calculations
1 eggplant: 132 calories, 1.1 g fat, 18.7 g fiber, 5.6 g protein, $1.26
1 tablespoon olive oil: 119 calories, 13.5 g fat, 0 g fiber, 0 g protein, $0.10
1/2 large onion, chopped: 32 calories, 0 g fat, 1 g fiber, 0.7 g protein, $0.25
1 can cannelini or small white beans: 385 calories, 0 g fat, 21 g fiber, 28 g protein, $0.79
3/4 cup chicken broth, plus another 3/4 cup set aside: 25 calories, 0 g fat, 0 g fiber, 4.9 g protein, $0.60
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper: negligible calories, fat, fiber, and price, $0.02
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice: 4 calories, 0 g fat, 0 g fiber, 0 g protein, $0.25
TOTAL: 697 calories, 19.1 g fat, 40.7 g fiber, 39.2 g protein, $3.27
PER SERVING (TOTAL/2): 349 calories, 9.6 g fat, 20.4 g fiber, 19.6 g protein, $1.64
PER SERVING (TOTAL/3): 232 calories, 6.4 g fat, 13.6 g fiber, 13.1 g protein, $1.09

Saturday Throwback: Overcoming Your Cooking Obstacles

Every Saturday, we post a piece from the CHG archives. This one comes from May 2009.

When it comes to eating healthier and saving money on food, we’ve established time and time again that few strategies are more effective than cooking at home. Making meals in your own kitchen gives you total control over nutrition, flavor, ingredient quality, and expenditures, among other things. Plus, making a mess with flour is fun.

Still, for many, home cooking is nigh inconceivable. Maybe you work 80 hours a week, and can’t find 20 minutes to make a sandwich. Maybe you live in New York’s East Village, where your apartment galley doubles as your bathroom and your bedroom. Maybe you never learned to cook, and are afraid of blowing $10 on a chicken, then charring it beyond recognition.

Fortunately, we here at the CHG laboratory (translation: my bathroom) have the answer.

First, we isolated a handful factors that most affect peoples’ ability to fire up their own stoves. They are: time, space (in the capacity sense, not the extraterrestrial sense), inexperience, fear of failure, and The Damn Dishes. More than anything else, these five elements drive the average folk to takeout, restaurants, and pilfering fruit from sweet old ladies.

Then, drawing from extensive research and our own experiences, we brainstormed tips and tricks to combat these hindrances. Without further ado, here's everything.

TIME

The problem, defined: Since it’s a thrice-daily activity, cooking can be a total time suck. And if you have children, a demanding job, or stuff to do, it’s difficult blocking an hour or two per day for food prep. Consider this: in the 1950s, Americans (read: women) spent about 20 hours a week in the kitchen. Today, it’s less than six.

The solution, explained: Prioritizing cooking isn’t a full-throttle, 0-to-60 overnight deal. It’s a habit developed gradually, and you have to give yourself some leeway. So, start small. Eat breakfast at home everyday for a week, or take 20 minutes to make a basic, from-scratch meal. Try bringing lunch to work. Force yourself to sit down, at your table, and drink a full cup of coffee. Eat in your kitchen instead of in front of your television. Find three or four easy recipes, and cook all your food for the week on a Sunday. Enlist help from the kids/husband/erstwhile in-laws. Again: take baby steps, and don't forget to give yourself a break. With a few months and constant reinforcement, that hour-a-day will start to come naturally.

SPACE

The problem, defined: Your place has exactly enough room for you, your roommate from Albania, and the dust bunnies you’re raising together as common law spouses. There’s no space for a box of cereal, never mind a 12-piece set of Calphalon.

The solution, explained: You’re already starting small, so that advice is out the window (if, in fact, you have a window). Instead, think big. Where else can you store food, besides your refrigerator and/or cabinet(s)? Is there room under your bed? On top of the microwave? Under the table? Can you install shelving over doorways? Are there Lazy Susans or mini-shelving you can cram under your sink? Check Apartment Therapy’s Smallest Coolest contest for creative ideas, and always remember: IKEA is your friend. For more, check Frugal Storage Solutions for the Small Kitchen, a CHG post from November 2008.

INEXPERIENCE

The problem, defined: When it comes to cooking, there are fetuses with more wherewithal. At least they know what to do with leftovers.

The solution, explained: Remember: everybody has to start somewhere. If you don’t know a scallop from a shallot, that’s fine. No one’s evaluating you. Don’t be afraid to experiment and play, and know that you’ll foul up on occasion, sometimes monumentally. Picking up a simple cookbook always helps (suggestions: any Betty Crocker tome, How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman, How to Boil Water by Food Network), as do basic recipe sites (AllRecipes, Food Blog Search, etc.), beginners’ TV shows (Everyday Italian, etc.) and fun magazines (Everyday Food, etc.). If you know a good cook, take some time to watch them work. Because if he/she can do it, so can you.

FEAR OF FAILURE

The problem, defined: You buy the finest ingredients. You have all the cooking equipment you possibly need. You’ve watched hour after hour of Julia Child spatchcocking … whatever it is that can be spatchcocked. Still, everything you make ranges in quality from suck to blow. Why waste all that money and time if you know it’s going to be terrible?

The solution, explained: From Eric Ripert to your great-grandma Mary Sue, all chefs have had disasters, often repeatedly. While prompting you to “Suck it up and get back in the game, champ!” is clichéd and glib, there’s some truth to its underlying optimism. You’ll never get any better if you don’t learn from mistakes (your numerous, calamitous mistakes). If you’re concerned about cost, practice your technique on lower-priced ingredients with Craigslist-caliber cookware (and keep a few inexpensive insta-meals around for backup). Don’t forget to read recipes several times and taste your creations as you prepare them. It’ll save you from undersalting or overcooking. Finally, if you can find one, make a loved one your personal guinea pig. Eventually, as you get better, he/she will reap the culinary rewards. Now suck it up and get back in the game, champ!

THE DAMN DISHES

The problem, defined: After 18 roommates and nine apartments spread over 13 years, I’m secretly convinced that 95% of cooking blocks come from one thing: nobody (me included) wants to do The Damn Dishes. Time-consuming and the total opposite of fun, they’re a pain in the tuchus for all involved. In college, I knew a guy who would leave his Damn Dishes in the sink for DAYS, until his roommates couldn’t take it anymore, surrendered, and washed them. Also - cooking shows and cookbooks NEVER, EVER consider The Damn Dishes when they’re telling you how to make food. I love Ina Garten, but if I ever saw her wash a Damn Dish on Barefoot Contessa, I’d drop dead.

The solution, explained: If you don’t have a dishwasher, I feel your pain. An already-tedious task becomes more difficult when it’s compounded by Whirlpool envy. Starting out with simple, one-pot meals can alleviate this somewhat, as can concentrating on cold salads and sandwiches, which naturally involve fewer dishes. You could also choose one day per week to do all your cooking, which condenses the dishwashing into a half-hour or so. If all else fails, try setting up a system with your roommate/family/Husband-Elect, wherein you do the cooking and he/she/they does/do the dishes. You’ll eat well and avoid dishpan hands.

If you DO have a dishwasher … use it. Lucky dog.

And that’s our ballgame, sweet readers. If you have any suggestions or ideas, please fire away in the comment section. We’re waiting for your call!

~~~

If you enjoyed this article, you might also dig:

• The Brown Bag Brigade: Your One-Stop Shop for Work Lunch Ideas
• Fear Itself
• Last-Minute Little Dinners for One: Tips, Ideas, and 25 Recipes