I had always maintained that I’d be the kind of person who makes time for cooking, regardless of how busy I became. It is, after all, my job, my hobby, my creative outlet and how I connect with people.

Fast forward to 2018, and it became painfully clear that while that was a nice thought and all, it was also highly and incredibly unrealistic. The general idea that Life Is Overwhelming and There’s No Time for Anything is hardly new, but my reaction to it has adjusted from resistance to acceptance.

The way my friends and I spend our time has changed as families grow and careers take off and life gets more delightfully cluttered, and to me that has shown itself most obviously in the kitchen. Sure, I still enjoy the occasional elaborate, multihour cooking affair, but these days, there’s a lot more “come over for cheese and crackers because it’s all I have energy for” than there used to be.

This is also partly because of a realization I had: When I did invite people over for a meal, I would spend all my time alone in the kitchen working, without really focusing on what anyone was saying, or engaging in any meaningful way. (I am a lot of things, but a multitasker is not one of them.) Eventually, we would all sit down, quickly eat whatever it was I’d prepared, and then the evening would come to a close.