Gentl - Every day is Saturday: recipes + strategies for easy cooking, every day of the week

For Andrs, Greta + Mtys.
You are my Saturday, every day.

Text copyright 2019 by Sarah Copeland.

Photographs copyright 2019 by Gentl + Hyers.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

ISBN 9781452168548 (epub, mobi)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:

Names: Copeland, Sarah (Food expert) author.
Title: Every day is Saturday : recipes + strategies for easy cooking, every day of the week / by Sarah Copeland ; photographs by Gentl + Hyers.
Description: San Francisco : Chronicle Books, [ 2019] | Includes index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018033082 | ISBN 9781452168524 (hardcover : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Cooking. | Quick and easy cooking. | LCGFT: Cookbooks.
Classification: LCC TX714 .C676 2019 | DDC 641.5dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018033082

Prop styling by Sarah Copeland.
Food styling by Sarah Copeland.
Design by Vanessa Dina.
Typesetting by Frank Brayton.

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It was a regular Tuesday, the day Diana Henrys latest book, A Bird in the Hand, arrived on my desk. On the cover were juicy pieces of roast chicken, drenched in olive oil, scattered liberally with deeply roasted lemons and fresh, blooming thyme. Its the kind of classic, evocative food shes known forthe kind of meal I wanted to cook for my family that night, or one day.

Thats what I remember thinking: One day, when I have a little more time. Maybe this winter, when things slow down.

But things didnt slow down.

By that particular day, Id been making a living cooking and writing about food for well over a decade. Food had always been an easy pleasure in my life. Making a meal like that shouldnt have been a big challengethe recipes in Dianas book are not hard. I had all the ingredients and all the skills to make it. But sometimes lifeeven a good lifegets in the way of truly living.

At the time, I was waist-deep in my new role as food director at Real Simple magazine, a nine-to-five job in a shiny Midtown office, a lengthy subway ride from home. It was a dream job, and I was grateful and excited to have it, but the logistics were a big change. Until then, I had enjoyed working from home, writing cookbooks and recipes for magazines, or, long ago, cooking in restaurants and in a villa in St. Tropez. In short, good food was always within reach.

In those years Id enjoyed flexible schedules, sit-down lunches, and deadlines that turned into dinners for me, my husband, Andrs, and later our daughter, Greta. I luxuriated over a trip to the market, and cooked what made me feel alive and inspired. Above all, I adored cooking for the ones I loved.

My new life posed challenges to eating wellthe kinds of challenges many of you know, too: a commute, long office days, a young child, a new business (my husbands), house renovations, visitors, holidays, deadlines, and other fill-in-the-blank responsibilities.

As we settled into our routine, old healthy habits like home-cooked, sit-down meals with vegetables front and center fell away to a rush rush rush lifestyle, complete with get-it-done dinners of frozen dumplings, quesadillas, and pasta with butter and peas.

Of course, there were bright spots: Some days, Greta came to work with me, and wed slip off to the Turkish place around the corner at lunch to eat olives and pitas to our hearts delight. That was heaven. Many days, Id eat giant grain bowls around my desk with my colleagues, whom I adored, made with ingredients we rescued from our test kitchen the day before. I loved those days, too. Once in a blue moon Id meet my husband for an clair at the French pastry shop a stones throw from my office, in Rockefeller Center, or more rarely, grab a midday bowl of udon with a dear old friend. Those days felt almost perfect.

But little by little, the magic faded out of my home kitchen.

One day, sitting at my desk thinking about what Id make for dinner that night, I felt stuck. How could this be? I wasnt lacking for recipes or ideas: My desk was piled with cookbooks I was dying to put to use, and right under my nose were twenty pages of gorgeous recipes my crew and I had created for the magazine that month. Maybe I had fallen out of love with cooking. Maybe, after years of writing about, cooking, styling, and shooting food, my passion had simmered, bubbled, and boiled away.

Or maybe I just needed a nap.

Just as I was running out of steam, the weekend would arrive. Wed pack up the car and drive ninety miles north of New York City to a little village in the Hudson Valley, where nothing was fancy, but where what we had was pricelessfresh air, a small garden, togetherness, and time: true luxuries.

Id get Greta settled in bed, then head to the kitchen to hunt down some chocolate while Andrs poured us tea. It didnt matter how tired we werethe first taste of the weekend was not to be missed. Hed be talking to me about world events or house projects; Id nod agreeably while silently plotting tomorrow mornings French toast, a slow-braised Sunday lunch, and any excuse to bake.