Over Thanksgiving seven years ago, my husband suggested we get a crock pot. I have no idea where this came from since this is the man who cooks nothing but the occasional Thanksgiving turkey or Christmas roast. But I thought he was onto something. After all, we had an infant at the time and another mom friend of mine had been raving about the simplicity of dinner in the slow cooker prepared during naptime.

Next thing I knew, the slow cooker appeared under the Christmas tree, complete with a recipe book that I think contributes to the negative image of the slow cooker (read: lots of recipes using cans of soup and cheese sauce). I was a bit hesitant about embracing the crock pot, as I had a notion that they were relics leftover from the 1970s. But slow cookers seem hip now, with Williams-Sonoma selling $300 All-Clad versions and a plethora of more sophisticated cookbooks to maximize their results.

We are in prime slow cooker season, so I have been testing some recipes recently. Last weekend I made Real Simple’s Slow Cooker Smoky Pea Soup. The whole family enjoys split pea and ham soup, and true to its name, this one was really simple to make, and was tasty though it felt like cheating. Confession: technically I did cheat since I did not use a ham hock; I used a diced ham steak, but the results are equally good. It also provided enjoyable lunch leftovers for a few days.

Speaking of cheating, here is my favorite slow cooker trick: pulled pork. We invited some good friends over for a casual Sunday dinner a few weeks ago. I decided to make pulled pork in the slow cooker. I literally placed a boneless pork loin roast in the slow cooker and covered it with a bottle of barbecue sauce, put the lid on and let it go for about 7 hours. Once cooked, I shredded it, tossed it in the sauce, and served it on yummy, oversized pretzel rolls. Our friends raved. I had to confess it was a complete cheater’s meal. This dinner of pulled pork sandwiches, roasted sweet potato wedges and a green salad required literally a 5-item purchase at Trader Joe’s: the meat, the barbecue sauce, the rolls, a bag of sweet potatoes and a bag of salad!

Maybe next time I shouldn’t confess just how easy the slow cooker makes my life and just let everyone think I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day.

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And, I’d imagine, to the food-passionate circles of which I dream of being part, such a declaration would be akin to telling, say, a whale activist that I like everything about saving whales except for having to actually cut those storied nets and save them.

I read food magazines and chef memoirs. I study recipes. I watch as much cooking as my basic cable package allows. I bore (and quite possibly drive away) those around me with talk of meals way before and way after the fact.

And see? You’re probably already thinking, “Wow. How unique of you.”

Yes, in the eyes of the walk-the-walk cooking world, I’m just another non-low-brow American with an appetite.

But, to be honest, I just don’t have any major desire to really start cooking. Or at least not quite yet. Because it doesn’t make sense for my life quite yet. Cooking for myself in an apartment that boasts not even the tiniest splash of countertop; purchasing ingredients with a bank account that’s overdrawn bi-weekly; preparing said ingredients to almost surely come out inedible—it all strikes me as a bit masochistic, if anything. Practice makes perfect, yes, but practicing is expensive. And demands a countertop.

Is this wrong though? Does a love for all things food have to be yoked with the actual act of cooking in order to be legitimate? In terms of my aforementioned social aspirations, I think it does. Without having experienced the process of bringing meals to life, I fear that my passion comes off as unsubstantiated. I can spend my days sitting in my counterless apartment-for-one romanticizing the world of food, but until I’ve experienced its less romantic aspects (save for weight gain), can it really be called love?

Well, it certainly is love, but perhaps to please the masses and silence my insecurities, I should just make something. I am 25 years old, after all. And if anything, it’d be interesting to see what my obsession is capable of bringing to life.

Step one: a salad! How about Cilantro Lime Crab Salad? But with plain Greek yogurt in place of the mayonnaise. A salad is something I can keep in the fridge. And one which I don’t feel guilty about picking at compulsively. Lean proteins. Vegetables. Happy fats.

Wish me luck…

When I was invited to join the group, I had hesitations. Making dinner for a football team’s worth of people seemed daunting, and the initial outlay of money in ingredients was a bit stressful–cooking for myself meant that hefty grocery bills could be mentally amortized across a week or two. There were also the ideological considerations: all of us were vegetarians, but at the time I was much less adventurous than most. My friend Ray, while breathlessly encouraging me to jump onboard, rhapsodized about an entree based largely on tempeh they had all enjoyed the previous week; I felt myself subtly recoil. Tempeh?

Ultimately, the one incontrovertibly strong deciding factor that impelled me to say yes was my own need for connection. What drew me to the group initially–along with Ray and several other members of the group, both male and female–was the fact that it represented something all of us were craving. A healthier relationship with food, a familiar and beautiful ritual in the middle of days that often felt uncertain, the chance to nurture those you cared about when you previously hadn’t been sure you could even take care of yourself: dinner group offered our group of twenty- and thirty-somethings a chance to actively shape who we wanted to be as eaters and sharers of food.

The 12 friends split into 6 pairs and each duo cooked a dinner for the group once every 2 weeks. That was the simple part. I quickly learned to scale up my cooking for many people, plan menus to stretch ingredients, and cook multiple courses simultaneously on my two-burner studio apartment kitchenette. (The secret there is to constantly stay in motion; cooking becomes a kind of high speed, twirling ballet.)

What excited me most was the thrill of menu planning. While not overly competitive, I will admit that all of us quickly learned what each pair’s strong points were–and that we took pleasure in outdoing ourselves week after week. Over dinner, we’d talk about classes, our jobs, our hopes, and dreams. Sharing each other’s homes and tables night after night led to a desire to nurture each other–and also a desire to surprise.

One group excelled at inventive salads; another pair’s forte was exquisite Southern comfort food. Two others provided wonderful picnic-esque spreads (they were living on a boat at the time, so this was no surprise). My partner and I specialized in combining unusual, unexpected tastes.

For me, these often took the form of desserts–including the quirkily titled beeramisu, which has become a staple of mine. (Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a subtle and elegant dessert. I usually replace the stout with a fruity Belgian beer, like Lindemans Frambois Lambic or Peche.)

The experience of needing to pull food together quickly while keeping it fresh and exciting has become a signature part of my cooking style. Cooking for multiple people, while it can initially seem like a chore, becomes an incredible gift when what you’re doing is using food to make people think, or smile, or open up. I treasure what I learned about myself in that group, the capacity I discovered that I have to give.

Girlfriends will find any excuse to get together. And what better way to spend a cold Saturday than with food and friends. In order to justify our absence from our husbands and kids, we decided we’d better find a way to benefit them as well.

And girlfriends trust each other. Girlfriends share their opinions about everything–recipes and food are no exception. Most women I know are always looking for their next batch of great recipes, so we decided to get together and test some out.

The ultimate goal was to come home with four meals to enjoy throughout the week (or stash in the freezer for a busy night).

We accomplished several things during our three hours together this weekend: quality time, trying new recipes, and preparing meals to take home for our families. Here is how it went.

I invited 5 girlfriends who, like me, are busy moms who are into cooking and trying new recipes but are short on time. Six people was the perfect size. The dads planned on staying home for some quality time with the little ones.

I looked through my recipes on Plummelo for a few important criteria: little to no cooking on prep day; highly freezeable; no more than about 10 ingredients each; and using relatively inexpensive ingredients. We narrowed it down to 4. We wanted to start out with an attainable goal.

I saved these 4 recipes to My Recipes on Plummelo and emailed them to my friends so they could save them into their recipe boxes as well. I put the recipes into My Plans and then into My Shopping List.

Here was the part where Plummelo really saved the day in this planning process: Once the recipes were in my shopping list, Plummelo adjusted the servings for me!

For 6 people, we needed everything times 6 (for a grand total of a lot of food). The recipe showed number of servings as 4, so I entered 24 (4 x 6), and the Plummelo shopping list automatically changed all the quantities for me (for example, 1 1/2 cups of ricotta became 9 cups of ricotta).

I then hit “Email Shopping List” on Plummelo and sent the combined list to my friends. We divvied up the shopping by section of the grocery store (which was also easy because the Plummelo shopping list is divided by category, such as Meat, Produce), and each went grocery shopping on our own schedule and planned to arrive with the assigned items.

One friend and I hit Costco for all the meat, and the others went on their respective treasure hunts. I was surprised at how little effort went into the shopping when we divided and conquered.

The day of, I packed it up the food and a few essentials (including my favorite knife), ready to take to the hosting friend’s house. We allowed 3 hours for our cooking adventure, with some time built in for girl talk and munching on freshly baked muffins.

We started out with the Chicken Marbella. One team of two trimmed the chicken thighs, another team minced garlic (of course, with the garlic gadget!), and another team measured spices, olives, capers, and prunes. In no time our chicken was marinating in the bowl, and we divided the massive quantity into 6 Ziploc freezer bags for each family to pull out on the designated night.

The routine went like this for the remaining recipes. Chopping and dicing, dividing and conquering (and washing some dishes in between). Meal prep is much more fun when it is organized in advance and shared with good friends. It’s also more fun digging into a huge bowl of ground turkey when wearing plastic gloves! We had a lot of laughs about food favorites and not-so-favorites, cooking blunders, and each other’s techniques, and fed each other bites of blueberry muffin while we worked. It didn’t seem like work at all.

It took us two and a half hours and $37.50 per family (that’s less than $10 per meal) to make 4 delicious meals that are ready for our loved ones to enjoy. Economies of scale definitely pay off!

Now we each have 4 new recipes in our repertoire and 4 new meals for the week. And after receiving a big thank you from more than one of the husbands, I know we have a hall pass for another girls’ afternoon out.

Try planning a cooking day with your friends. Let us know how it goes.

It’s a habit that may be inherited from my time working in public libraries; I hold a special place in my heart for order. But long before I had even heard about the Dewey Decimal System, a much more instinctive way of cataloging was becoming my first standard: ROY G BIV. I organize my closet, my bookshelf, and even my office supplies by color. And this is also how I organize my refrigerator.

My friends tease me about this habit every time they come over. But there is a method to my madness: by categorizing according to content, I can balance my diet, whip up a great meal on a whim, and be sure that nothing ever goes to waste.

It’s an oft repeated maxim that the fully balanced plate should have representatives from as many color families as possible. That’s because different colored foods tend to hold different nutrients. Red, for example (rhubarb, beets, tomatoes, red chard–did you know that was a type of beet?) offers essential vitamins that promote blood function and healthier hearts. Yellow and orange fruits and vegetables such as carrots, sweet potatoes, and squash give us vitamin C and, unsurprisingly, beta carotene.

Dark or leafy greens such as kale and broccoli are chock full of vitamins A and C, which have been linked to vision and strong, healthy bones. And by grouping all my protein together (tofu, eggs, cheese, and occasionally fresh fish), it becomes easier to be sure that I’m getting enough fuel to my muscles to keep them sharp and active throughout the day.

My cooking habits vary widely, depending on how late a day has ended. Sometimes (ah, weekends!), I can spend an hour or two preparing a complex dish I’ve looked forward to preparing. Most of the time, though, I come home and have to prepare something quickly with what I have on hand. Organization by color allows me to spot the brussels sprouts nearing the end of their usefulness, or the tofu I bought two weeks ago and forgot about. That momentary spark gleaned from my cursory, hungry glance into the fridge will often decide what I’m going to make effortlessly, and from there an easy, tasty meal is usually less than half an hour away.

When I’m cooking this way, I love meals that combine many tastes and textures without an overwhelming amount of effort. Single skillet meals are the perfect answer: you know everything that went into them is balanced, so there are no sides or extras to worry about. When they’re done your only task is to sit back and enjoy. Halibut with Spicy Squash and Tomatoes is perfect for that. I will usually throw in two handfuls of a dark leafy vegetable along with the other veggies. That way you have protein and the colors red, orange, and green–not to mention a few items from last week’s grocery list that have been put to good use. You can check out the full recipe, along with some other colorful one-pot wonders, at my Plummelo profile. Enjoy!

Photos by Adwoa Gyimah-Brempong

Does this sound familiar?

See below for photo source.

Note: Extra points for making enough to last for lunch leftovers, or better yet, putting a portion in the freezer.

This week my plan involves one pre-cooked rotisserie chicken. (In previous stages of my cooking life, I used to pass these birds by, writing them off as shortcuts for people who don’t cook. Now I run to them: “Please come home with me, delectable little bird!”)

On Monday morning, I walk to Whole Foods with the baby. I get a golden-and-crispy-on-the-outside, juicy-and-tender-on-the-inside rotisserie chicken, among other things.

Upon returning home, I first inform my work-at-home husband that there is a killed and de-feathered animal in the house, because he insists on picking off all the meat I discard as unusable. I am a meat snob.

I pull out a sharpened sudoku (no, not one of those puzzles from the newspaper) and a clean cutting board. For me, there is something therapeutic about chopping chicken.

I divide the chicken into two bowls. I put one bowl of diced chicken in the fridge and get to work on the first recipe, my adaptation of Everyday Food’s Broccoli Calzones (this recipe doesn’t include chicken; what a shame). The recipe makes eight calzones, so I always serve two and freeze six for later. It’s the perfect pull-out-in-a-pinch dinner or lunch. Whenever I make them, I pre-cook them (the recipe says not to) so I can just zap them in the microwave (on the convection/crisper function) and serve with some jarred pasta sauce on the side. I buy the pizza dough pre-made, which saves a lot of time.

On Tuesday, I doctor up Real Simple’s Chicken Curry in a Hurry. The chicken is already set to go! I alter many recipes, including this one, by adding some veggies (mushrooms, green peppers). I always add vegetables to any casserole-type dish that doesn’t call for anything green. If I’m feeling bold and wishing I was someplace tropical, I throw in some cubed pineapple. I serve it over jasmine rice.

What are your tricks for using one primary ingredient twice?

Photo source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevendepolo/ / CC BY 2.0

Sarah Fullerton is Plummelo’s editor. She enjoys cooking, knitting, skiing, and cycling. One of her favorite hobbies is sharing and talking about recipes and discovering shortcuts for healthy eating. She is especially enthusiastic about cooking for her baby girl. She can be contacted at sarah@plummelo.com.