Image: Getty
Image: Getty

KaiJanuary 21, 2024

The year of slow

Image: Getty
Image: Getty

For 2024, Perzen Patel is taking a less hurried approach in the kitchen.

This is an excerpt from our weekly food newsletter, The Boil Up.

It’s that time of the year when strangers on the internet make me jealous with their “words of the year”, a single word that reminds them of everything they want to do or be in 2024. Because choosing a single word to summarise an entire year feels as hard as choosing my last meal.

For the purposes of writing this newsletter, I persisted. Three minutes of reflection in the bathroom while my boys asked me 84 questions from outside, I had my word.

Slow.

As someone who sells curry pastes to make dinners easy, I’ve made it my job to stir together something that is cheap and nutritious, that my children will also eat, and that doesn’t take longer than 20 minutes to put together. My Instagram search tells me I’m borderline addicted to #quickcooking, #15minutemeals and #instantdinners.

So for the first week of embracing “slow”, I couldn’t think of anything except for the slow-cooker languishing on my garage shelf.

We’ve all enjoyed the creamy, smoky dahl makhani I made after months. And my slow-cooked hoisin pork shoulder performed like an index fund investment, helping me make rice bowls, burgers and fried rice. At the pot-luck last weekend, my let’s-call-it-Tuscan bean stew that we scooped up with crisp lettuce shells went down a treat too. But with work starting properly this week, I’ve found myself packing away the slow-cooker again.

I did some more reflection (again in the bathroom) and have come up with three things I plan to try instead to incorporate more “slow” into my kitchen.

Hoisin pork mac and cheese, one of many dishes to which the slow-cooked hoisin pork shoulder contributed (Photo: Perzen Patel)

Long and slow onions and tomatoes

As an Indian, I use so many onions and tomatoes that I often find myself chopping up onions and opening a can of diced tomatoes before I’ve even decided what I’m cooking.

While I can’t slow-cook all my food, I’m going back to using my weekends to caramelise my onions and cook those tomatoes low and slow. Caramelising onions adds a deep base of flavour of sweet, savoury and extra oomph to curries, stews and my favourite mid-week treat, pies. When it comes to tomatoes, I’ve long known that slow-roasting them in the oven helps mellow their acidity until they are deliciously sweet.

What I didn’t know until recently is that you could do that to canned tomatoes too! While both of these ingredients stay good in the fridge for a week, my plan is to take advantage of the cheap summer prices for both and freeze a bunch of it for my weekday curries. Who knows, maybe I’ll go a step further and then freeze those curries too for an endless supply of yum.

Cooking with family

After seven years of being a mum, I have relatively low standards for what makes me a “good mum”. But one of the dreams I still hold dear is raising boys who love spending time in the kitchen. Problem is, they currently have a mum who swats them away impatiently because it’s faster and less messier if I cook by myself!

But something’s changed this summer with them turning five and seven. We’ve been practising our numbers by counting the chocolate chips for our pancakes and learning to spell by writing the grocery list. Last Friday the boys “made” their own pizzas for pizza night and as I write this, we’ve spent the morning rolling up and freezing spring rolls I can fry for their lunchboxes once school begins. Cooking together is now more fun than it is messy and I’m already dreaming up things we can cook together.

The spring rolls we made together (Photo: Perzen Patel)

Cooking the unknown

Easy, familiar and healthy often sits at odds with exciting. Which might explain why I’m bored with all the meals I end up cooking. I could make my meals exciting by adding piles of cheese or cream to everything I make like Facebook urges me to constantly. Or, I could stop treating my growing cookbook collection as bedtime reading and actually cook some of the recipes hiding in there.

My challenge to myself this year is to take inspiration from the Instagram creator Jake Dryan (@plantfuture) and take a deep dive into regional Indian food à la Julie & Julia, cooking something new from the recipe books weekly. I’m hoping that not only does it make mealtime easier but it also provides fodder for my weekly essays on Beyond Butter Chicken.

It remains to be seen how many of my slow resolutions I put into practice. What I can say is that a couple weeks into my year of slow, I seem to have reignited my love for tootling around the kitchen, even if I’m not very productive. Maybe this word-of-the-year palaver has some merit after all.

Keep going!
You could do a whole lot worse with $5 (Photo: Sam Brooks)
You could do a whole lot worse with $5 (Photo: Sam Brooks)

KaiJanuary 19, 2024

An ode to the humble supermarket salad

You could do a whole lot worse with $5 (Photo: Sam Brooks)
You could do a whole lot worse with $5 (Photo: Sam Brooks)

Who knew such joy could be found at the deli counter? Sam Brooks tucks in.

I have never been a salad person. The idea of using one of my precious three meals a day for something that probably doesn’t include a lot of meat, some form of bread and enough sauce to drown a small animal is anathema to me. However, as I pull slowly up to my mid-30s, I’ve decided that incorporating some form of salad into my life might be a good way to feel a bit less like I’m carrying around a lump of sludge inside me at all times.

I am also, unfortunately, not a packed lunch kind of a person. I hate to touch food in my own house before a day of work, for reasons beyond my grasp, and in the rare instance where I have prepared lunch the previous night, I have forgotten it in the fridge or pantry. One of the small, but core, pleasures of my life is figuring out what to eat on any given day. I am yet to properly assess whether the impact to my bank account is worth the cost of this little pleasure. Usually, it sends me to a local bakery or cafe to peruse whatever little treat may be available and serve as sustenance, nutrition be damned.

Recently, a supermarket ended up being the most convenient (and cost-effective) source of lunch (and I am aware that this is a comparatively late-in-life realisation for a 33-year-old to have). After deciding that I wanted my midday meal to be something healthier, or at least lighter, than a baked good, a bag of pork crackling, or anywhere else on the carb and sugar spectrum, I decided I would get a salad – a salad, of all things! – from the deli.

Several hours later, when I retrieved my salad – which cost me barely more than $5 for about 200 grams – from the work fridge, I have to say I wasn’t amazingly enthused. My gut, suddenly throwing itself up to my shoulder and acting as a little devil, wanted me to rush to the petrol station across the road and indulge in something from a warming tray. Some chicken bites, a cheese roll, even a pie, maybe! But I committed to my morning choice, prised open the container, and got to it.

And it was… honestly pretty good! The pasta was surprisingly al dente, the dressing fresh, the chicken tasty (not under-seasoned), with the right amount of vegetables to fool a child, or a man with a child’s palate, into nutrition. Within a few minutes, my gut had dropped back down into its rightful place, sated, with mildly healthier things filling it. I had made a good nutritional decision, and I will carry the self-inflated pride of that for a full calendar year.

Across the week that this supermarket was on my commute, I alternated between the chicken pesto salad and the penne caesar salad, both of which varied ever so slightly in price from day to day. The man who served me at the deli recognised me after the second time, and I got that little jolt of warmth that a little social interaction before a day of work can give you. As someone who generally doesn’t indulge in a morning coffee from my favourite cafe, I heartily recommend this as a substitute (albeit one that is not going to wake you up).

Low expectations have their own beauty. Setting the bar at ankle height and allowing a person, a piece of art, and yes, even a salad, to clear that bar is an act of grace. Not quite Mother Teresa levels of grace, but grace nonetheless. When you sign up for a supermarket salad, you are not expecting greatness. You’re not even expecting goodness. As I write this, I am chowing down on $4.84’s worth of a “NutriFresh Smoked Chicken Pasta”. The pasta tastes fresh, the chicken tastes nutri, and it has an appealing vinegar-esque dressing over it. It really only needs a crack of pep for it to be exactly what I need from a supermarket salad. 

I will follow this up with an early dinner of $4.84’s worth of “Hawaiian Twist with Bacon”, which involves chunky pieces of fusilli mixed with scant bits of vegetables and pineapple, a cheesy dressing, and the occasional square of bacon.

None of these salads are the best I have ever had, but they’re sure as hell not the worst, and unfortunately any salad that I put my own skills to would end up closer to the latter than the former. There is also something that feels pleasingly, delightfully, homemade about these concoctions. Although they are doled out from bowls the size of bird fountains, the choice to make a salad that is essentially a cold Hawaiian pizza feels intimately human, undoubtedly homemade. (I also have to acknowledge that yes, all of the salads I have mentioned in this piece are pasta salads, and probably lean more heavily towards the first word of that label than the second. Baby steps, or baby tiptoes, towards being an adult eater.)

It feels like the best thing I could eat at 2pm on a Thursday afternoon. Is it? Almost certainly not. But feeling like it is a hell of a good start.