Adventures in slow cooking.

I purchased a slow cooker this morning.

I can’t help but feel that, more than anything else I’ve done so far — more than moving out of home, or traveling the world on my own, or getting engaged, or deciding to save up for a home lone — this marks my slide into The Land of Responsible Adulthood. Busy working mums with tight budgets use slow cookers, not twenty-five year old students who work from home and don’t really have to look after anyone but themselves. I should have ample time to prepare nutritious meals; we all know that most of my day is made up of pretending that I’m researching a thesis *snort*.

But yet, here I am, slow cooker in possession, raring to stick my cheap-but-tasty-looking hunk of lamb into it with some curry paste and vegetables, all in anticipation of it spitting out a fully cooked meal some eight hours later. Scarily, I am actually quite excited about the whole thing. For some reason I’ve really despised cooking lately. It might be the heat, or it might be the lack of inspiration, but the last thing I want to do at night is stand in front of the stove and cook. The slow cooker is my solution. It’s big enough to cook more food than Rhys and I could ever eat in one sitting, so with any luck I’ll only have to cook two or three times a week. We are pretty happy eating leftovers a few times, given that we’re pretty busy. On the weekends, I’ll cook proper meals. During the week? Slow cooker baby.

It might sound somewhat dull having some sort of slow-cooked meal most nights of the week, but honestly, I just can’t be stuffed cooking. I hate preparing salads for eating at home (I don’t know why, but my salads always make me feel sick, yet I’m perfectly happy eating a salad prepared by someone else), so this seems the easy option.

So. Happy frugal cooking to you all! Hopefully this thing is foolproof.