August resolution

Every month Matt and I make some kind of joint resolution. Why limit the formation of good habits—or the breaking of bad ones—to Jan. 1? So far this year we’ve reduced our caffeine intake and committed to using our daily planners, just to mention a couple that stuck.

This month we resolved to cook dinner together every night, and we haven't looked back. It’s counter-intuitive, but by giving up the convenience of restaurant meals we’ve gained time together, saved money, and reclaimed our evenings.

Plenty of people relax by cooking. I don’t. Grocery stores and their long lines stress me out; I’m not interested in experimenting with recipes; and I hate cleaning the kitchen. Nearly three years ago--three years!--Ron gave us the great Christmas gift of a fully stocked garage freezer. That it's still about half full speaks volumes about our cooking inclinations, or lack thereof.

Yes, I felt guilty eating out (or ordering in) practically every night, but I told myself that the unpredictable schedule of our business made planning and preparing homemade meals impossible. I know Mom shuddered at our restaurant dependence, but Matt didn’t mind. And I swore I’d do better once we added children to the mix.

Before the August resolution, on a typical night, Matt and I would go straight from work to the gym, hurry home, jump into and out of the shower, get dressed and head back out for dinner. We usually wound up eating no earlier than 8:30 p.m., so by the time we were finished and home again, it was nearly bedtime. Still, I thought it would be even worse if I had to cook.

We were tired of all the local restaurants. We were spending an inordinate amount of money eating out so frequently. And we had no after-dinner downtime to speak of.

But what finally made us declare a moratorium on restaurant meals was our waistlines. Portion control is not easy in restaurants. Who am I to turn down fresh-baked bread with butter? And it’s a lot easier to decline dessert if none is available. Matt and I both felt guilty not finishing entrees that we’d already paid for—and we dislike leftovers—so we always left restaurants feeling overstuffed.

(The simplest approach to portion control in restaurants is, of course, to split meals. But our tastes are just different enough for that to not be a very viable option. Thousand island or ranch salad dressing? French fries or veggies on the side? Steak cooked medium-rare or medium-well? Too many compromises required.)

So we committed to cooking dinner at home for this month with the sole hope that it would force us to eat more healthfully. I didn’t foresee the fringe benefits.

The hours spent planning, making and eating meals at home have become a reliable source of quality time for Matt and me. Often, we sip wine and debrief as we cook. We take our time eating and have the luxury of lingering at the table after we’ve finished. Cleanup is relatively quick and easy between the two of us.

We never run into anyone we don’t want to see--at dinner, anyway. The grocery store is more bearable when we team up for it on the weekends. And between the Internet and our mothers, we’re collecting and perfecting favorite foods.

We’re saving a lot of money. It would be difficult not to, now that we aren’t paying a restaurant to do all the dirty work. If I clipped coupons and comparison shopped, the savings would be even greater; maybe that will be a goal for a future month.

And we have our evenings back. We still head from work to the gym to the shower, but then we’re in for the night. We prepare dinner in our pajamas, load the dishwasher after eating, and still have a couple of hours left to wind down before going to sleep.

It’s strangely satisfying to actually have trash to set out on Thursday mornings. And to replace spices because we used them, not because they lost their potency while waiting to be used. And to be met with the scent of last night’s dinner instead of ... well, nothing when I walk in the front door. All evidence that our home really is inhabited.

I’m still not the best meal planner. I sometimes leave essential ingredients off the grocery list or forget to set out the meat for thawing before leaving for work in the morning. And the best-laid dinner plans can be hijacked by a prospective buyer calling from outside one of our house listings at 7 p.m.

I stock up on sandwich bread and frozen dinners for nights such as those. Nutritious and impressive meals they’re not, but they offer some of the other benefits—time to talk, and money savings—as a made-from-scratch meal, with less prep time and cleanup.

Our new house should be complete by Christmas. Based on the success of our eating-at-home experiment, we have a new goal: to deplete the garage freezer before the move.

August will be over in two weeks, but I think our personal dinner revolution is here to stay.