This is how I know it’s January: the crisper drawer of my fridge is busting with citrus fruits. Lemons lie cheek-to-jowl with blood oranges and clementines and Sumo citrus and the occasional grapefruit. The reign of the pomegranate is at its end (which you can determine by the price rising like a star). We are in citrus season. How beautiful, that the fruits which taste bright and keen as sunlight are most abundant when sunlight is rare. Outside, not much is doing. A tentative narcissus has put out exactly two spikes of green, and halted. It knows it is too early yet to expend energy spreading itself into blue-green leaf and stem, white apron and golden trumpets.
And I am tucked up where it’s warm, dreaming of doorway roses. I have settled on ordering a David Austin “Strawberry Hill” rosebush, both for the feeling the name evokes, and its promise of honey and myrrh-scented blossoms proliferating around our blue door. Of course I’m aware that a bare root rose will come looking like nothing more than an awkward stick, and that it will probably be several years before our rose will look anything like the doorway roses we gaped at in Amsterdam. That is, if it even grows at all. But David Austin is a good company - they stand by their roses and promise to replace ones that don’t thrive. Anyway, the idea of doorway roses to snuffle on our way home from work outpaces any practicality I feel about this very slow dream of mine.
It seems a lot of dreams are slow-growing. I used to take that as a point against beginning something, but then I learned two good things about time: it passes whether you started your dream or not; also, it can be nice to watch something grow, to tend it.
My parents moved out to their property almost fifteen years ago. Back then we discussed how much we wished the property came with an established orchard. And though they eventually planted a handful of fruit trees, it’s insane to me to contemplate that by now they could already have an established orchard - indeed, an old orchard! - if that had been the first item of business when acquiring their land. My doorway rose will probably establish itself in several years and although part of me wonders, “But what if we move by then?” another part of me knows there is a good chance I could not plant the rose and stand by our door in three years thinking, “I could have a doorway rose by now.”
So I think I’ll plant the rose. (And, just in case we move, I’ll plant it in a giant pot so that we could take it with us.) Are there dreams you have that are slow-growing, or maybe not (visibly) growing at all? What is your favorite dream you’ve begun? Are there any you’re going to begin presently?
In a much less poetic vein, another slow growing dream of ours is seriously saving money. It’s slow-growing because life has this funny way of breaking toilets and dryers just as soon as you’ve said, “Okay, we can stash a little bit more away this month!” And if it isn’t something breaking, it’s your looming car inspection and the idea that your vehicle (which has hitherto behaved well) will suddenly contract a deadly mechanical disease like Faulty Wheel Bearings just for the benefit of the state inspector.
But I’m being economical where I can. It’s interesting, if not totally successful. I like to get pedicures because Andrew wears basketball shorts. These two things do not seem related until you understand that the creepiest feeling on earth is dry skin picking at silky sports fabric, which happens when we curl up on the couch at night. But frequent trips to the salon aren’t in the budget this year. Happily, I was given an electric file from Amazon for Christmas, and I bought an intensively hydrating lotion to go with it. It’s so not sexy yet so effective, and I have freshly pedicured toes whenever I like for the foreseeable future. It’s so nice that I’m even telling you about it. Nevertheless the at-home pedicure experience has so emboldened me that I am even considering learning how to tint my own eyebrows: a luxury I gave up last year, but miss.
During the big bad pandemic year of 2020 I dragged Andrew to Trader Joe’s. We stood in line as they let a scant handful of customers into the store, asking the others to form a queue outside. Andrew was uninitiated in the joy of Trader Joe’s and not psyched to be there at all, let alone stand outside for forty-five minutes like roadies panting for a chance to meet the Beatles.
“Think of it like a game,” I said.
“This is not a game. There is no way to view this as a game.” He zipped his jacket higher.
“Yes, once we get inside we can…”I cast about for a way to make this fun. "Well, we could time how fast we shop!”
He rolled his eyes.
When we finally reached the head of the line, a patient Trader Joe’s employee handed us a sticky note with a time stamp scrawled on it: “If you can be finished with your shopping in ten minutes, you’ll win a prize at the checkout line!”
I gleamed at Andrew, “I’m sorry, but I was right! It officially is a game.”
We raced, we checked out, we won a live basil plant. And ever since when Andrew and I are faced with a pesky task like shrinking the budget, we talk it through before I wrap my arms around his neck and look smug. “It’ll probably go better if we think of it like a game.”
“Oh, you and your games!”
But that is what we do. We turn it into a game. Budgeting is not budgeting, it is tucking and rolling and dodging and making tasty things out of what you considered to be the absolute nothing left in your fridge. It is a game wherein the objective is to outwit the set of circumstances that look solid. We have the luxury of shrinking our budget because we want to save and learn to live on less. This game rewards the creative thinkers, the re-users, the cooking dinner even though you feel like takeout-ers.
And of course, it comes with the practical effect of eventually being able to truly spare $30 on takeout if you absolutely have to have emergency Pad Thai.
We aren’t great at this game yet, because sometimes we forget we are playing. And let’s be honest, life does cost and you can’t spend nothing. Much like a workout feels like it should come with muscles within twenty-four hours, saving feels like we’re already sewing chicken feed-sacks into couture outfits, having withered meekly into weathered Depression-era housewives:
We are so good with our money.
We are financially astute.
We are budgeting savants.
We are — wait, where did it go?
But we’re getting there, at least in spirit. And in that spirit of settling into good, nourishing dinners made from things we have close at hand, I thought it could be helpful to share some of the things I try to keep in stock at all times. With these bits, I can usually pull together meals of good, interesting variety with a short shopping list of the more perishable things. Some of you will remember the first of these “Kitchen Vitals” posts I published in August. They are a series of occasional topics meant to help those who feel a little uncertain about what to keep in their kitchens. The first post went through cookware, or all the things that keep you from feeling like you’re living in the higgledy-piggledy kitchen of an Airbnb. This is meant to be two lists (pantry and long-living fridge components) that encompass the ingredients I feel are helpful to being able to cook well and broadly. Keep in mind this is a list of what I consider pantry staples for the way I cook, and this may differ from the way you cook. But because I find it helpful to have many of these things on hand, I offer you a quick inventory of what a “stocked up” pantry and shelf-stable fridge looks like to me! I like to make sure these bits of my fridge/pantry are set, and then build out a grocery list from here. Most often that grocery list is fairly short, composed of quickly-consumed things like yogurt and cheese, meat, perishable produce, and fresh herbs.
Pantry
whole peeled tomatoes/diced tomatoes
tomato paste
canned beans: cannellini, pinto, black (I love dried beans and keep them, but on a weekday it’s canned beans for me so this is my recommendation)
anchovies
olives/capers (something salty/briny)
full-fat coconut milk (look for the kind without preservatives)
dried lentils
rice (jasmine and Arborio)
heirloom grits or polenta (I use these in baking as well)
pasta (usually one box of chickpea pasta, we are not a pasta household)
popcorn kernels
quinoa
chili crisp
chicken stock
vinegars (I have at least 4-6 and I “need” them all. At the very least have red wine vinegar, raw apple cider vinegar, and a good balsamic vinegar)
oils (I keep olive and coconut oil, and ghee)
tamari, soy sauce, or coconut aminos (it’s a toss up, I use them all and buy what’s handiest)
fish sauce
spices: allspice, black garlic, chili flakes/powders (aleppo, ancho, cayenne, gochugaru, etc.), cinnamon, clove, coriander, cumin, “everything bagel,” garam masala, garlic powder, ginger, nutmeg, onion powder, paprika (smoked and regular), sumac, za’atar, etc.
nut butters (I alternate between almond and peanut butter)
maple syrup and/or coconut sugar
unbleached cane sugar
brown sugar
molasses (I’m working through a giant tub I bought wholesale a couple winters ago)
flour (I keep an organic white, organic whole wheat, and gluten-free so I can bake for others)
oats (rolled and steel-cut)
granola (often I make this, often I let Simply Elizabeth make this)
dried fruits and nuts (a rotating assortment)
dark chocolate (you never know when you’ll need a batch of brown butter chocolate chip cookies)
tortilla chips (often)
one good cracker option
Counter/Fridge
potatoes (I rotate sweet and golden or baby potatoes based off my meal plans, but I always have A Potato about the place)
garlic
onions
shallots
ginger
lemons
miso
thai curry paste (red and green)
gochujang (korean chili paste)
sambal oelek (another sweet/spicy pepper situation)
mustard (dijon, whole grain)
kimchi
salsa
dill pickles (tiny cornichons are my preference, as you can chop them, or eat them as a snack)
butter
a block of parmesan
free-range eggs
sourdough starter
active dry yeast
Better Than Bouillon (I keep the beef and the veggie types because I don’t use those stocks often enough to take up precious pantry space with cartons)
I think that about does it. I know I will get home tonight, open my cupboards and see about a dozen things I left off the list, but this should get you started. As you can see, a lot of my cooking is influenced by Asian ingredients and robust flavors. The pantry list is extra long because I bake. There aren’t a lot of snacks because I’ve never fully departed from my childhood of living in an ingredients-household, unwilling to purchase pre-packaged snacks I could just as easily make from scratch. Sometimes a fig bar makes an appearance, and I’ve finally befriended the concept that eating crackers as part of a lunch is not a guilty indulgence (on what planet?). But by and large I make snacks at home.
I hope this list helps you streamline your shopping in some way! Something I appreciate about being so stocked is that with this pantry alone I could provide us with a number of tasty, nourishing dinners without having to add anything from the store. Most of these ingredients last a long time per purchase (spices, seasoning ingredients, condiments, vinegars, grains, etc.) but their impact on the variety of our meals is equally long-lasting. I need only add a bunch of cilantro to make a killer dal. Cacio e pepe is a foregone conclusion. If you toss me a red bell pepper I’ll make us a pan of shakshuka. And really that’s all that I want: dinner options when a trip to the grocery store (to spend more money) can wait.
So now I want to know, is there something you consider necessary to keep around for the bones of a great meal? Do you have a favorite low-cost dinner in rotation?
Till next week, friends! Sorry for the gap in writing. January has me sluggin’ like a slug: happy, hydrated, unhurried.
Write again soon,
Rachel
So many great ideas! 😍 Pulling this list up next time I shop.