I have spent a ridiculous amount of my life standing in front of an open refrigerator. Usually around six o’clock. I would stare at perfectly good food I had purchased only days earlier with the best of intentions.
Chicken. Vegetables. Salad ingredients. Fruit. Maybe something I had specifically bought because I had promised myself this was going to be the week I got my act together.
Those ingredients didn’t look like dinner. They looked like work.
There were things to chop. Something needed defrosting. I couldn’t remember what I had planned to make with the spinach. And why, exactly, had I bought three lemons?
Meanwhile, I was hungry.
There were calls to return, things at home that needed my attention, people I cared about, errands I hadn’t gotten to, and a dozen other loose ends still rattling around in my head.
And somehow dinner was standing there asking me another question: What are you going to do with me?
For years, I assumed women who consistently ate well were simply better at this than I was. More disciplined. More organized. Maybe they had some mysterious reserve of enthusiasm at six o’clock that I had somehow missed out on.
So I did what so many of us do when something isn’t working. I decided I needed to try harder. I would plan better. Shop better. Make better choices.
Monday was always very impressive. Then life would happen. Eventually, I asked myself two questions I wish I had asked years earlier: What if I didn’t need more discipline? What if I just needed to make healthy eating easier?
Those questions changed far more than I expected. I stopped trying to become a different person and started building a way of eating that actually worked for the person I already was.
Three changes made the biggest difference.
I know this woman well. She buys fresh produce with tremendous optimism. She never gets tired. She apparently enjoys cooking elaborate dinners on busy days. She always remembers to thaw things. And she has absolutely no desire for comfort food on Friday night.
I have shopped for her many times. Unfortunately, she has never actually shown up to make dinner. So I stopped planning meals for her.
Now, before I shop, I ask myself a much more useful question: What will the real me – with my actual schedule, energy and appetite – be willing to make?
That one question changed my grocery cart.
It turns out the refrigerator works much better when it’s stocked for the woman who actually lives in the house.
There’s another advantage.
When six o’clock comes, dinner has already been decided. I don’t have to summon motivation. I just have to start cooking.
Sometimes making a better choice has very little to do with willpower. Sometimes it simply means making the choice before you’re tired and hungry.
The second change happened when I realized I was treating every meal like a brand-new problem to solve.
Good grief.
It’s dinner, not an SAT question.
I wanted a default.
Something simple enough that I didn’t have to renegotiate healthy eating with myself every time I walked into the kitchen. For me, that became a basic structure: protein, vegetables, a reasonable portion of carbohydrates and enough flavor to make the whole thing worth eating.
Eventually, I put more definition around that structure – approximately 45 grams of carbohydrates and 500 milligrams of sodium per meal.
But the numbers weren’t the breakthrough. The structure was.
Once I knew what I was aiming for, individual foods stopped requiring so much debate.
Potatoes could be part of dinner. So could rice. So could pasta. Bread didn’t require a confession. I didn’t have to decide whether a food was “good” or “bad.” I just needed to understand how it fit into the meal.
And that was surprisingly freeing.
Once I had a default, Tuesday’s dinner stopped requiring a nutritional debate. I hadn’t realized how exhausting all those tiny food decisions had become until I stopped making so many of them.
This may have been the most important change.
For a long time, I treated enjoying healthy food as a nice bonus. Health came first. Taste would hopefully come along for the ride.
There is one rather obvious problem with that strategy. We have to eat again tomorrow. And the day after that. And, if we’re fortunate, thousands and thousands of dinners after that. That is a very long time to eat food you don’t particularly want.
So I made myself a promise.
If I was going to change the way I ate, the food had to be worth eating. Not “pretty good considering it’s healthy.”
Good.
The kind of dinner you smell cooking and start looking forward to. The kind you make again because you genuinely want it. The kind you would serve to someone you love without announcing its nutritional credentials before they take the first bite.
That changed everything.
Because when the better choice is also the meal you’re looking forward to, it doesn’t require nearly as much discipline.
There is an enormous difference between: I should eat this and I can’t wait to eat this. I had spent years trying to get better at the first sentence. I should have been working on the second.
One of the dinners that captures all of this for me is Balsamic Steak with Crispy Potatoes, Burst Tomatoes and Herby Yogurt Sauce.
Even the name sounds as though I spent far more time making it than I did.
I didn’t.
That’s part of why I love it.
Steak, potatoes, tomatoes and onion do most of the work together. Balsamic, garlic and rosemary bring the flavor, and a quick herby yogurt sauce makes the whole thing feel special.
There are actual potatoes on the plate. There is sauce. And nobody has to be talked into eating it because it’s “healthy.”
That’s what I was missing all those years.
I kept thinking healthy eating would become easier when I became better at it – more disciplined, more organized, more willing to make the responsible choice.
Instead, it became easier when I stopped making it so complicated.
I plan meals for the life I actually live. I use a simple structure instead of reconsidering nutrition every time I make dinner. And I make food I genuinely want to eat.
Of course I care about my health. At this age, probably more than I ever have. I want to eat for the woman I am today and for the woman I want to be 20 years from now. I don’t think those two women need different dinners.
Maybe that’s the part I finally figured out. Healthy eating doesn’t have to feel like something I’m constantly working at. Some nights it can simply be a really good dinner.
And tomorrow, I can do it again.
Crispy Potatoes & Vegetables
Steak
Herby Yogurt Sauce
To Finish
For nutrition facts, additional tips and variations, visit Balsamic Steak with Crispy Potatoes, Burst Tomatoes and Herby Yogurt Sauce.
Do you have the habit of staring at your fridge thinking, “There’s nothing to eat/cook!” What would make cooking worthwhile for you?
Tags Healthy Eating Recipes