The problem with dinner isn’t the recipes. It’s having to decide, right at the time of day when you’re worst at deciding.
You get home tired and three things pile up at once: working out what to have, cooking it and washing up. Take one of them away and dinner sorts itself out. Take two away and it’s done in ten minutes.
The formula that saves you thinking
Instead of recipes, a formula. A put-together dinner is something filling + some protein + something green or raw, and that’s it.
Filling: good bread, a boiled potato, yesterday’s rice or pasta, a tin of pulses. Protein: egg, tinned tuna or sardines, cheese, ham, whatever was left over from lunch. Green: bagged salad, tomato, a handful of spinach, cucumber, avocado.
With that formula you don’t have to decide what to have: just look at what’s in each column. It’s the same idea as the simple plate, only in its evening, can’t-be-bothered version.
Did you know? Most ten-minute dinners aren’t cooked in ten minutes: they’re put together. The real time was spent on Sunday, boiling a few eggs or making extra rice. A quick midweek dinner is nearly always the result of something that was already done.
Five ten-minute dinners
1 · Proper toast. Decent bread, toasted, rubbed with tomato and drizzled with oil, a tin of sardines or tuna on top. Sliced tomato on the side. Two minutes, start to finish.
2 · Scrambled eggs with whatever’s there. Eggs, a splash of milk, and whatever’s left in the fridge stirred in — cheese, ham, spinach, tomato. With a bag of salad on the side.
3 · Pan-fried chickpeas. A drained tin of chickpeas in the frying pan with garlic, a little paprika and spinach until it wilts. Five minutes, and it’s pretty filling.
4 · Yesterday’s pasta, reinvented. The pasta or rice from lunch with tuna, chopped tomato and olives. Cold or warm, it doesn’t matter.
5 · A plain omelette with salad. A classic for a reason. With the dressing already made in its jar, the salad stops being a chore.
What makes the ten minutes possible
None of those five works if the fridge is empty. What keeps them going is always having four things:
Eggs. Raw and, if you remember, a few already boiled. They’re the ultimate wildcard.
Tins. Chickpeas, lentils, tuna, tomatoes. It isn’t cheating: it’s good old store-cupboard cooking.
Something green that needs no preparing. A bag of salad, tomatoes, an avocado. Anything that needs peeling and chopping at ten at night won’t get used.
Something from Sunday. Rice, boiled potatoes, a vegetable soup. It’s gentle batch cooking applied to the worst hour of the week.
And the washing-up, which is half the problem
A ten-minute dinner that leaves three pans to wash isn’t a ten-minute dinner. One frying pan, or none.
It’s the difference between doing it again tomorrow or going back to ‘I’ll just have anything’. If the recipe needs two rings on the hob and an oven dish, it isn’t a midweek dinner.
The days without even ten minutes
There are some, and quite a few. A ham sandwich with a tomato on the side is a perfectly decent dinner, and so is a yoghurt with fruit.
That isn’t giving up: it’s exactly what we stand for here. What sinks dinner isn’t what you eat on a lacklustre Tuesday, it’s giving up altogether and spending three weeks ordering takeaway because ‘well, it’s all gone out the window anyway’.
Start today: check whether you’ve got eggs, a tin of chickpeas and something green. With that, tomorrow’s dinner is sorted without a second thought.
Frequently asked questions
What can I make for dinner in ten minutes?
Good toast rubbed with tomato and topped with a tin of sardines; scrambled eggs with whatever’s in the fridge and a bag of salad; tinned chickpeas pan-fried with garlic, paprika and spinach; lunchtime’s pasta or rice with tuna and tomato; or a plain omelette with salad.
How do I avoid having to think about what to have for dinner?
Use a formula instead of recipes: something filling (bread, potato, yesterday’s rice or pasta, tinned pulses), some protein (egg, a tin, cheese, ham) and something green or raw. You don’t have to decide what to have, just look at what’s in each column.
What’s worth always having in for this?
Eggs, tins (chickpeas, lentils, tuna, tomatoes), something green that needs no preparing and something cooked at the weekend, like rice or boiled potatoes. Anything that needs peeling and chopping at ten at night ends up not getting used.
Why do my quick dinners end up being a hassle?
Nearly always because of the washing-up. A ten-minute dinner that leaves three pans isn’t one: the useful rule is one frying pan, or none. If the recipe needs two rings on the hob and an oven dish, it isn’t a midweek dinner.
And on days when I haven’t even got ten minutes?
A ham sandwich with a tomato on the side is a decent dinner, and so is a yoghurt with fruit. What spoils things isn’t a lacklustre Tuesday: it’s giving up altogether because ‘it’s all gone out the window’.