The first meal I used to cook for myself as ramen. The next 12 are also ramen. The same is true of the next hundred. By the age of 11, as a latchkey kid, I had mastered the art of malon egg drops, sliced green onions, chili peppers and soy sauce and mushrooms added. I learned a love for cumin and coriander very early on. In fact, any ingredient seems to be a fair game.
So when I said that I wrote a handsome ramen bowl from a hellofresh meal delivery kit last month, I still felt a little proud, and I was talking about a great experience.
Photo: Matthew Korfhage
I’m a little kiddy, but here’s the fact: Packaged home ramen has always been tired food, not proud food. A few hours later it was a rainy Tuesday. But when I finished the pork chili sauce drizzled with chili oil, topped with sesame roasted chicken, topped with some light breasts, thick cheese, topped with fresh mushrooms and wilted spinach, I felt like I felt like I did something worth noting. Not only does the dinner look delicious, I did one thing. On Tuesday. Didn’t work too hard.
It’s the promise of dining kits like Hellofresh, which is why people pay more goods than groceries, but less than any good meal. It’s a promise of a better but still manageable family vision, one of which involves the work of making a well-conceived meal without actually conceiving it.
Photo: Matthew Korfhage
Light, bright, even a metropolitan
Hellofresh (like many popular meal delivery kits, all started in Germany – arguably the most successful penetration in the form. A box of ingredients arrives each week, individually distributed and bagged for recipes to be printed on an accessible one with small graphics. All you need is a boiler, a boiler, a stove, and some basic oil and salt and butter-type staples.
Photo: Matthew Korfhage
