For years, I'd walked past frozen pre-chopped onions at my grocery store, assuming they were an unnecessary indulgence. The voices of my female ancestors urged me to chop them myself, a task that was never as simple as it sounded. But when my store ran a promotion on frozen vegetables, I finally took the plunge.
Those early experiences felt less like convenience and more like revelation. I realized that my repertoire was packed with dishes that required onions, but I'd been cooking them up only after they'd already been handled. The spoon theory came to mind – the idea that our energy levels are limited, and some tasks just can't be done on a Tuesday night when all we want to do is curl up with a bowl of soup.
Over time, frozen onions became an integral part of my pantry, alongside olive oil, rice, and other staples. They're not a shortcut; they're a tool that helps me cook more intentionally. And it's about recognizing that ease isn't necessarily a moral failure.
For people who work in the kitchen as often as others do – whether you're a primary cook or someone who takes care of that role – there are quiet labor demands that can be overwhelming, especially when layered with disabilities, chronic pain, or exhaustion. That friction is real and it lands on you.
The issue isn't about shortcuts; it's about designing your kitchen to make life easier, not harder. The trick is to approach swaps in a way that feels experimental, rather than pressured. Maybe you'll still want to roast chicken for dinner every now and then – but the convenience of pre-cooked gnocchi or frozen basil can be a game-changer on busy weeknights.
As I look back on 2025, one ingredient stands out: frozen onions weren't just convenient; they were a revelation.
Those early experiences felt less like convenience and more like revelation. I realized that my repertoire was packed with dishes that required onions, but I'd been cooking them up only after they'd already been handled. The spoon theory came to mind – the idea that our energy levels are limited, and some tasks just can't be done on a Tuesday night when all we want to do is curl up with a bowl of soup.
Over time, frozen onions became an integral part of my pantry, alongside olive oil, rice, and other staples. They're not a shortcut; they're a tool that helps me cook more intentionally. And it's about recognizing that ease isn't necessarily a moral failure.
For people who work in the kitchen as often as others do – whether you're a primary cook or someone who takes care of that role – there are quiet labor demands that can be overwhelming, especially when layered with disabilities, chronic pain, or exhaustion. That friction is real and it lands on you.
The issue isn't about shortcuts; it's about designing your kitchen to make life easier, not harder. The trick is to approach swaps in a way that feels experimental, rather than pressured. Maybe you'll still want to roast chicken for dinner every now and then – but the convenience of pre-cooked gnocchi or frozen basil can be a game-changer on busy weeknights.
As I look back on 2025, one ingredient stands out: frozen onions weren't just convenient; they were a revelation.