For me, survival food has always been bread and cheese.
I haven’t come up for air in what seems like a month. Currently, my days are made up of back to back exclamations and exhalations of “if I can get through that.” And then, without fail, another that appears.
I’m getting good at putting out fires, eating on the run, falling asleep at inopportune times (such as while writing this column), and generally giving my all towards everything, which usually ends up being about 64%.
What can I say? The tank is rarely full.
These are skills I’d rather not have but it’s temporary, which happens to be my mantra when traversing a specifically demanding time. This is temporary, I repeat to myself.
But when the days end and my heavy eyelids and I climb into my crisp, white sheets — I feel the weight of tomorrow begin to creep in before I even shut my eyes.
I will most certainly return to prioritizing joy and rest. I am, after all, a girl who could sit with a mug of tea and a book of poetry for most of a day, without complaint. I can picnic and dance party and board game and frolic and hug a tree — that is my natural setting. Me: a girl who was born to leisure but forced to work her ass off.
There’s just no time for any of that slow life right now. But, the good news is this. I am not complaining, I’m just having a moment and there’s always time for bread and cheese.
I’ve returned to this timeless combination in all its many forms throughout my life. It can be taken in the car or eaten at the counter. It can be eaten warm or cold. It requires no dishes, no clean-up, no prep. It is my survival food.
In high school, too tired to cook, I relied on sandwich bread and American cheese after basketball practice. Toward the end of my first pregnancy I would sit on the couch with a box of Wheat Thins and some Kraft deli slices.
Often when my kids are gone, and it’s just me, I unwrap a triangle of brie and smear it on pieces of toasted baguette. I’m almost never disappointed.
Somewhere along the line bread and cheese both collected bad reputations, deemed unhealthy by diet culture. I’m here to tell you with my total lack of medical background that if you eat too much of anything, there will be issues. So, don’t go making your whole diet bread and cheese, okay?
But, my goodness, they’ve both basically been around since the beginning of time so I’m going to carry on. If you care to join me, this elevated bread and cheese survival situation requires a tiny bit more forethought. But, I’m not going to tell you to dirty more than one dish or combine more than three ingredients (salt and olive oil don’t count).
If I don’t have time for that, neither do you.
Get out your baking dish, dump in three or four handfuls of cherry tomatoes. Add enough olive oil to coat everything really well, a couple garlic cloves, some leaves of basil if you feel like it, and salt.
Put the whole mess into a 375-degree oven for 30 minutes. Add a 6 ounce package of goat cheese broken into a couple pieces and scattered about. Return the dish to the oven and let roast for another 8 minutes.
Finish with 2 or three minutes of broiling, just until the tomatoes and cheese have a little char.
Remove your upgraded survival food from the oven, scatter a couple pieces of fresh basil on top — and spread the mixture on a crusty baguette.
Eat at your kitchen counter, one foot hiked to your knee, close your eyes, and dream of slower days or hugging trees or whatever you’re into. We’ve got this.
”But First, Food” columnist Whitney Kling is a recipe developer who lives in southwest Ohio with her four kids and a cat and is developing a food memoir that’s ever-nearing completion. If she’s not playing tennis or at a yoga class, she’s in the kitchen creating something totally addictive — and usually writing about it.
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