What a baker does when they run out of bread…

Living with the bread for over a decade means our family eats and breathes the seasonal fluctuations of the retail economy. This overarching theme means we’ve gotten used to a history of thin and threadbare Januaries when the consumer spending tap squeezes to a drip. We also observe the penitent and foggy month with frugal absolution. No new groceries! We squeak and make big batches of oatmeal for porridge-y peasant breakfasts, and slow cook giant pots of dried beans for economical bread dunking stews. It doesn’t feel too harsh when giant bags of oranges arrive from our friends and lend a citrusy burst against the mildly monotonous season of beige foods.

Of course, restriction is the mother of invention, and Gabe and I have been expressing ourselves on a canvas cabbage and carrots and leftover rice. It came about when we had (gasp) run out of bread. “I don’t want eggs with no toast mom!” “Just make some fried rice with that leftover rice then!” I called out. Um, apparently I forgot to teach him that one. Okay then, let’s mise! Finely chopped cabbage (I know it looks like a lot, it will shrink!) A couple carrots shredded against the box grater. 2 eggs whipped into submission. Yes bring them two limp scallions over here. Let’s get into our wok pushing around scrambly egg curds into a bouncy pile in a matter of 40 seconds or so. Stir fry cabbage and carrot to soft crunchy in a minute or two, deglaze with shaoxing rice wine, throw in our scallion whites and a bit of extra oil for that cold rice and maybe some soy sauce to color up the crispy bits. Ours is a partially Japanese household so Gabe garnished with furikake (a seaweed and sesame rice seasoning) and bonito flakes (smoked, fermented, and dried tuna shavings). It was utterly simple and brisk, but it somehow shouted of hedonism, and the sun broke the fog at the exact moment it hit our bowls in streams of golden afternoon light. I’ve definitely digressed away from the idea of cooking as the perfect expression of all the right ingredients, towards the delightful catalog of things we did with what was at hand, and a thesaurus of solutions to the ever present problem of what on earth is for dinner.