A bag from the freezer — not a shame, just Tuesday on the hob

What sits in my drawer

Peas. A carrot–corn–pea mix. Sometimes broccoli florets, if they were on offer. Not a wellness challenge and not an apocalypse stash. Just bags I can open with one hand while the other stirs the onion. We have fresh herbs too — dill in a glass of water, as I already wrote. But on a Tuesday after school, fresh market peas are not waiting on the doorstep. The borscht pot is, and a frozen handful goes straight in. It hisses. It smells of summer in a British autumn. The children ask: ‘Is it fresh?’ I tell the truth: from the freezer. Nobody leaves the table.

How I tip them in — and what I skip

I do not thaw them on the counter for an hour ‘to do it properly’. Peas go into boiling soup or onto a hot pan at the end. Two or three minutes, while they are bright green and still have a bite. Boil them for half an hour and you get grey mush — then the shame is not the bag, it is me. Mixed veg — with rice, with chicken drumsticks, into one side of the eggs. Salt — a pinch after; oil — whatever already sits in the pan. I do not drown them in kettle water ‘to loosen’: that washes the taste down the sink. If the bag is stuck to the drawer floor I do not lever it with a knife and a swear. I ease it with a spatula, or leave the drawer ajar a minute. This is a kitchen for six, not a contest.

Fresh and frozen on the same shelf in my head

Salad — from a fresh cucumber and tomato, if they are still alive. Soup and a side — calmly from the bag. I do not argue with people who eat only from a plot. My plot is sometimes a windowsill with leftover herbs, and more often the shelf in the shop near home. British peas in the pod can be sweet in summer, yes. In winter I do not pretend I carried them from Spain in a rucksack. The freezer is the same kitchen. Just another drawer.

Short notes from this hob

• Peas — at the end, two or three minutes, not half an hour
• Into soup — a frozen handful, no thawing on the counter
• Mixed veg — with rice and chicken, not instead of the whole supper
• An opened bag — press closed and straight back in the drawer
• Grey overcooked peas — turn the heat off sooner next time

What I do not do

I do not shame myself for a Tesco bag. I do not buy ten ‘superfood’ punnets at three pounds each. I do not lecture guests about freezer vitamins — I care that the plate is hot and on time. And I do not keep a torn bag for a year: I mark the date on tape, and after a few months I look again. Odd smell — in the bin. No drama and no diet halo.

From this same kitchen

I already wrote about Sunday’s bird and Monday’s pot in yesterday’s roast chicken — tomorrow’s pot. A bag of peas fits that soup. For the pan — which oil for which pan. The rest of the kitchen notes sit beside them. Photo: Engin Akyurt, Pexels.