Inside the Lazy Kitchen

Lunch started because someone wanted noodles.

There was just enough chicken broth left in the refrigerator for one last bowl, so I made sure every drop got used.

A whole cabbage caught my eye.

Perfect.

Cabbage and noodles have always been good friends.

I quickly chopped the whole cabbage, gave it a quick rinse, and let it drain. Some went into the simmering noodles. The rest went into the refrigerator.

I pulled seasoned wild salmon from the freezer and let it sizzle in a pan.

Lunch was nearly finished.

Then I looked at the pan.

The salmon was plated, but there was too much flavor left to ignore.

Garlic.

Herbs.

Crispy bits of pepper.

A rich orange coating of herbs, garlic, and spices clung to the pan.

Garlicky. Smoky. Savory. Unapologetically bold.

There was no way I was letting all that flavor go down the drain.

I opened the refrigerator again.

Tofu.

Egg whites.

Perfect.

They would soak up the herbs and spices while balancing some of the saltiness.

Into the same pan they went.

Tomorrow’s dinner was already halfway done.

By the time I turned off the stove, the noodles and cabbage were done.

The browned salmon sat beside a bowl of steaming noodles and tender cabbage. The warm aroma of rich broth and freshly cooked salmon filled the kitchen.

Lunch was ready.

Dinner was already halfway there.

And there was a container of chopped cabbage waiting in the refrigerator.

I’ll find something else to do with it.

I’ve noticed something over the years: once vegetables are chopped, they have a funny habit of ending up in meals.

Looking at the finished lunch, you might think I had planned it.

Balanced protein.

Plenty of vegetables.

Something warm.

Something crispy.

Tomorrow’s dinner already underway.

But none of it was planned.

It all started because someone wanted noodles.

The last of the broth upgraded them and invited cabbage.

The salmon’s leftover seasoning flavored tofu and egg whites.

The chopped cabbage quietly set up another meal.

Somehow, one request for noodles turned into lunch, part of tomorrow’s dinner, and the beginning of another meal.

Nothing about it was complicated.

It was just a series of small, easy decisions.

Each one simply led to the next.