Those of you tasked with cooking the nightly supper understand how repeats happen. I read a memoir once of a woman who was raised on a ranch in Wyoming. Her mom cooked seven different things, that is it. Seven. One for each night of the week. Ever week. The author wrote that she was well fed and had the nourishment needed for the active life on a ranch. Sometimes, I think about it. Returning food back to fuel instead of art or entertainment.
Would I get bored? Would my kids? Or would it free up so much time and energy spent on sourcing and execution? Philosophical musings for while I do the dishes.