Last night I decided to try a recipe I'd been looking at for weeks, Quinoa-Stuffed Peppers from Vegetarian Times. Quinoa is something I only started eating after I became a vegetarian, and it's a good way to get some protein.
I followed the recipe relatively closely--no onion or celery, cheddar instead of pepperjack, less tomatoes--and I was pleased with it. It's supposed to freeze well, but Andrew and I tend to put things in the freezer and never, ever take them back out. I think I'll just keep eating leftovers.
I sliced a sweet potato very thinly, roasted it, and used that and some grapes to round out the meal. I was really pleased with how lovely my plate was.
Here's the thing though: I worked, stopped and bought gas, walked the dog, cooked, walked on the treadmill, ate, and cleaned up. When I was finished and flopped down on the couch, it was 8:50. I know that most recipes don't take this long to make, and I know that all the stuff I did was good for me and blah blah blah, but it isn't the way I want to spend most evenings.
And I have no idea how people manage to do this kind of stuff and have kids. My hat goes off to them.