Alright, let’s talk about something a bit different today. It was one of those weeks, you know? Just absolutely slammed, barely had time to think, let alone cook a proper meal. Found myself staring into the abyss of the freezer aisle at the supermarket late one evening.
My eyes landed on the frozen dinners. Specifically, the fish ones. Now, I usually steer clear. Memories of questionable fish sticks from school lunches, maybe? But exhaustion does strange things to a person. I grabbed one – I think it was some kind of breaded fish fillet with mashed potatoes and maybe some sad-looking peas or corn.
Got home, tossed my keys on the counter. Pulled the box out of the bag. Looked at the picture. Looked okay on the box, didn’t it? They always do. Felt a bit weird about microwaving fish, honestly. Seems wrong somehow. But, instructions are instructions.
So, I did the whole ritual. Poked holes in the plastic film with a fork. Felt strangely specific, like defusing a tiny, frozen bomb. Slid it into the microwave. Punched in the time. Stood there listening to the hum, wondering what culinary delights awaited me. The smell wasn’t great, wasn’t terrible. Just… sort of vaguely food-like.
Ding! Pulled it out. Let it sit for the recommended minute. Always feels like the longest minute, doesn’t it? Peeled back the film completely. Steam everywhere. Looked… well, it looked like a microwave meal. The fish wasn’t exactly golden brown like the picture, more pale. The potatoes had slumped a bit. The veggies were definitely on the mushy side.
Sat down with it. Took a forkful of the fish. It was hot, at least. The breading was soft, not crispy. The fish itself? Edible. Just edible. Didn’t taste much like fish, more like generic savoury filling. The potatoes were okay, probably the best part, though they had that typical frozen-then-nuked texture. The veggies were, as predicted, quite sad.
Here’s the thing: I ate it. All of it. Was it good? No. Was it satisfying? In a purely functional, ‘I have consumed calories’ kind of way, yes. It filled a hole. It stopped the hunger pangs. And it required almost zero effort, which was exactly what I needed right then.
Would I rush out to buy another one? Probably not. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, really. More functional. Made me appreciate the simple act of actually cooking something fresh, even if it’s just scrambled eggs. But sometimes, needs must, I guess. It served its purpose on a night when I just couldn’t face anything more complicated. A reminder that convenience sometimes comes at the cost of, well, taste and joy. It got the job done, but it wasn’t exactly living.
