It’s the same every Friday, I put the oats and milk in the pan and turn up the heat for an initial blast. Then comes inevitable distraction before I suddenly rush back to stir the bubbling, angry porridge cauldron and pour it out, piping hot, into bowls for the children, hoping the burnt-on layer isn’t as bad as the last time. It’s worse. And yet the Friday porridge continues, a routine as a ritual.
A song for this week; Love is All by The Tallest Man on Earth *
Each week we say to each other, is it a normal week? A predictable week feels easy and safe, the repetition creating security; school, work, a weekly class, a Friday swim and the scheduled moments of quiet and rest. I enjoy fun spontaneity, I love out of the blue excitement and cherish my freedom, but some weeks everything seems too busy and there’s an uncomfortable shift in the norm, or topsy turvy days when I feel I’ve lost the solid foundation under my weary feet or can’t calm my worried mind and I crave the safety of the mundane.
Love to the anxious souls. Routine can be a comfort.
Routine is a buzz word I heard a lot when becoming a parent.; adding pressure to an already fragile and tender time. As if I could tame their sleep denial or train them to suit my lifestyle, I was only getting to know them, understand them. Routine meant rigidity and rules, hard for me to buy into, never mind a brand-new human, hard to listen to your baby and your body with all the other advice giving voices. The grim haze of exhaustion made monotony both a friend and an enemy; the desire for sleep and the societal expectation of your ‘good’ sleeping baby tortured with unrealistic ‘standards’.
Love to the mamas. Routine can be overrated.
For three days a week I’m in the bakery and try and keep my admin to a single day which often overflows and mixes with downtime too, it’s a blurred lines routine. Frequently I remember to order something in the late evening or reply to an email on a Sunday afternoon. In today’s world of instant information and high expectations people suddenly seem less patient. We were emailed a complaint from a customer who had already messaged through social media saying, ‘I noticed someone has read my message but not responded.’
Love to the self employed. Routine should be respected.
Routine can expose a sense of boredom you didn’t realise was lurking, stagnancy. Could this be especially true of eating habits? A carousel of dishes on rotation each week, no matter the season. This way of eating can give structure, carefully considered nutrition perhaps, balance, or it can make you fall out of love of food, make it less special or take away the possibility of creating and inventing and perhaps essentially, the excitement of trying new things.
Love to the busy people. Routine can be a curse.
What privilege we have in the freedom of choosing what we want to eat. It’s hard to imagine our ancestors subsisting on such meagre diets or those across the world today with little or no access to food and no opportunity to ever experience the wealth of ingredients and diversity of cuisine we have. It can be tricky to push yourself to try new ingredients, techniques and methods outside your comfort zone and routine but it’s also magical and can open a whole world of food fascination from growing, to food sovereignty, seasonality and TASTE!
I’d love to hear about new ingredients or dishes you’ve tried recently or if you feel stuck in a rut of cooking, are there hurdles? Or a memory of when a food obsession was sparked. Or maybe you really love your routine of cooking?
Some things I ate last week which felt not the norm;
Scarpello; Purple Sprouting Broccoli and Burratina salad; stunning
A stew/soup thrown together with odds and ends, on my instagram here
Tempeh as a sub for meatballs; will come back to this, delicious
Jumon- Malacca Laksa & all the spicy yumminess
A pistachio tart, a slice for second breakfast
(An absolutely not normal week where I ate out twice!)
Revelling in all the opportunies to be spontaneous, impromptu, out of the ordinary, inventive & surprising!
*although there’s a difficulty in overcoming tricky situations (or breaking free from routine in this case!) Love is the most important thing.
Friday is oatmeal day for us, too, but our "regular" is a bit more: for a pot of oats, add 2washed, sliced apples with skin (one sweet, one tart), handful of raisins, handful of chopped walnuts. Special.
Yes, love is *everything*—especially love to the mamas, always.