Downsizing

It’s been as good as a Sunday can get. We went to the shops, stocked up on spices (the only cupboard at my parents that can lack a bit of oumph). Rob let me pick everything I wanted for my birthday from Holland & Barrett. Yes, I know it’s strange to want all my gifts from there, but I just love the place. And I’ve just had the best roast dinner of my life. Home-cooked by my lovely Mum.

It’s the roast, by the way, that’s got me thinking. Thinking about roasts. And I’ve had a huge epiphany. Again, about roasts.

When you’re a vegan or a vegetarian, there’s a tendency, in my experience, to make up for an often underwhelming centre piece with as many side dishes as possible. For me, that’s filling the oven to the brim with as many different types of vegetable as possible, and roasting them until they’re golden and caramelised and perfect in every way. Except the thing about my roasts is, there’s always something that isn’t quite right. And now I know why.

Like many people, I have a tendency to put too much on my plate. Metaphorically and literally. So, when it comes to making a roast dinner, I’m always out of my element. I worry about timing everything perfectly. Don’t you know, everything needs to be ready at the same time? Even if I haven’t got the counter space to take everything out of the oven together.

Stuffing is also a bit of a difficult topic for the non-meaties. We aren’t exactly stuffing anything, anywhere. So, what exactly are we trying to accomplish? Don’t even get me started on the redundancy of cooking stuffing to compliment a nut roast.

So, it’s time to simplify. Cut back on all of the unnecessary rubbish. If you’ve got one small oven and a kitchen so tiny it rivals that of a camper-van, perhaps it might be best to save yourself the hassle and downsize Sunday dinner.

Cut the carbs. One type of potato is enough. Roast it. Mash is for sausages and onion gravy. Pick two veg that take the same time to roast, and only peel what can fit alongside a frozen nut roast. They’re just not worth making yourself. Even if it’s delicious, Sunday is stressful enough without washing lentils and finely chopping carrots and onions.

Heat the bloody oil first. Everybody tells you it’s essential for crispy roasties. And I’ve never believed them. But here I am, listening, receiving, changing. Wack the pan on the hob for a few minutes, or if you’re too nervous, like me, do it in a frying pan and transfer to a roasting dish once you’ve given them a zhuzh.

Finally, if you’re going to go through the effort of making a vegan cauliflower cheese, cashew sauce and all, leave the broccoli for a weekday stir-fry. It’s just not worth the complication of different cooking times. Minimise the opportunity for something to go wrong. Focus on maximising pleasure. More of a good thing is more of a good thing. Cauliflower cheese is a sensual dish, don’t feel shamed into offsetting the pleasure with virtue by boiling peas or carrots.

I used to have a real problem with Sundays until I started working from home. The pressure to cram everything in, while somehow relaxing before the working week started all over again was too much. Now, I’m starting to appreciate the slower pace. Moving to a city, where everything doesn’t close at 4 also helps. Hell, a few months ago I make the mistake of walking down Bangor high street on a Sunday. Not a single shop open (besides my beloved Cafe Nero).

Next year, I promise to make a real effort to learn to love a quiet Sunday. Maybe, I’ll even have a few without leaving the flat. Just pop an M&S nut roast in, put the telly on, and melt into the sofa. Recharging for another week of business as usual.