Life, love and lunch in two minutes.

Every home has a homemaker and this book is for homemakers in all sorts of families. Homemakers who feed their family delicious and nourishing meals, whilst also balancing other aspects of their lives.

They may be homemakers in traditional families where, by fate’s design, roles are distributed much as they were half a century or a couple of generations ago, where the task of providing rests on the shoulders of one partner, while the other consciously chooses to embrace this situation. Yet, we know how important their role is in managing the key processes. Moreover, they have the power to rejuvenate and restore balance to their provider, doing so subtly yet significantly, utilising clever tricks.

They may be working homemakers, who bear the same responsibility of earning money, while also juggling the domestic duties of a traditional homemaker, many of which cannot easily be delegated. For these readers, the speed of cooking, quality of ingredients and variety of the menu are crucial. Because in such families, there may well be two workaholics.

The role of homemaker may fall predominantly on one member of the household, or it may be shared between them. These pages draw on my own experience as a homemaker nurturing my workaholic partner, yet I’m sure there are anecdotes here which will resonate with homemakers in all family setups.

From the very beginning, I built our relationship on the boomerang principle. Surprisingly, it’s a very effective and practical skill. It essentially means that whatever impulse or signal you send out into the universe, you receive an equivalent response. More specifically, if you greet your tired partner with a cold beer after work, they will likely reciprocate with a kind gesture in return. This is just an example, of course, and impulses aren’t always material. Yet, this karmatic approach works like clockwork. In contrast, if you shout at your partner or, worse, insult them, you can prepare for a chain of negative consequences to be set into motion. It’s all quite simple, you might say, and you’d be right. However, living with a dedicated workaholic means my mission often involves nurturing the positive energy between us. It’s crucial to manage negative emotions if they cause harm and are not constructive.

So, how do I manage this? With small acts of kindness and gifts of food. If my partner can’t tear himself away from his Excel spreadsheet, I casually bring him a snack: a sliced apple, his favourite persimmon, a mix of nuts and dried cranberries, some dark chocolate with roasted hazelnuts, tea, coffee — anything! And yes, gradually he becomes more open and affectionate. It works like magic!

It may be that the workaholic is you. In such a case, you will inevitably face challenges in organising daily life, including cooking, simply because your commitment to work can crowd out thoughts of what to prepare next. It is easy to fall into a pattern of thinking constantly about food, and this can be exhausting, frequently ending with takeaways packed with empty calories. I genuinely feel for both you and myself when caught in such a situation.

But let’s not give up. Preparing food doesn’t have to be a tedious, laborious or grand process. Yes, it requires some motivation and effort, but as they say, “You just have to take the first steps”. I adore cooking, even after many years in the kitchen, because the combination of flavours is my source of inspiration and simplifying interesting recipes is my passion.

So, to bring my workaholic back into shape and keep him in tip-top condition, I rely on a simple principle: artistic inspiration. The aesthetic perception of food is essential; the plate should feature at least three bright colours — red, yellow and green. Variations are possible, of course. But if you keep this simple rule of balance and colour in mind, you can achieve great results. You can make mouths water and ignite a ravenous appetite, and those who eat with feeling and pleasure are filled with a joy for life — and along with that joy comes a flurry of new ideas and professional strategies. I take such delight in seeing the sparkle in my workaholic’s eyes. He’s not just mindlessly filling up; he’s regaining his vitality through my nurturing with love and attention to colour in my cooking.

Another key point is simplicity. Any cumbersome culinary venture multiplied by the number of meals can leave any home chef feeling daunted. After all, the average kitchen doesn’t have a separate assistant for each important task, so it’s not suited for heroic feats on an ongoing basis. And even in cooking videos, you will notice that all the ingredients are carefully prepared and portioned in advance by some invisible hands off-screen. In reality, when faced with the task of making something wonderfully complex and unfamiliar, you may find yourself utterly exhausted after a few hours of effort.

I’d like to avoid the professional kitchen experience. Every time I receive a generous culinary compliment and someone insists that I should open a restaurant, I’m left speechless. I can only blink in astonishment because I know they don’t understand the amount of hard work and effort that goes into restaurant cooking. Let’s start with the fact that it’s gruelling work, with hours and hours spent on your feet. Can you imagine the same kind of effort being replicated at home? It’s often undervalued. Or, on the flip side, people overestimate the capabilities and obvious lack of time and resources available to amateur chefs, if we can call ourselves that.

“Are you a chef?” I’m often asked. And I don’t respond. There’s a fundamental expectation: either you’re a chef or you’re an amateur. But that’s so untrue — it’s just a label! A two-year foundational education at a prestigious culinary school is no guarantee of success, whereas an ordinary homemaker might possess a refined sense of taste and the ability to change the world.

Therefore, in full awareness of my limitations, I intentionally simplify interesting recipes. Although sometimes I get carried away, marinating shallots in warmed vinegar while briefly roasting two types of tomatoes in the oven, and passionately tearing apart burrata with my hands… I find a unique thrill and opportunity for self-expression in that. But such moments are rare. True culinary ecstasy only comes when I’m fully resourced, which is a rarity in daily life.

Try to walk for at least an hour — briskly, up hills, over obstacles such as parks, past shops and cafés, determinedly and with a spring in your step. It’s best to walk in the mornings because along with improved circulation come other invigorating bodily processes, including a boost of optimism. Arriving back at work or home sometimes awakens a fierce appetite in my workaholic. Oddly enough, the exercise may alleviate any cravings for croissants or pastries. It’s much better to snack on something light, like a salad — that’s the formula for my workaholic, especially when it comes to the simple combination of tomatoes and cucumbers, or even just cucumber, garnished with flaked salt, olive oil and lime juice.

If you didn’t already know, there’s a highly effective cucumber diet. The rules are simple: if you’re hungry, eat cucumber. To follow this diet, you should keep a good supply of cucumbers in the fridge because maintaining such a diet is difficult and cucumbers vanish quickly. However, with my husband’s favourite salad, it’s all about the olive oil, which works wonders.

Have you ever really thought about the relationship between enjoying food and the overall enjoyment of life? The connection between these two things is remarkably direct! Like the shortest path from point A to point B.

The impulse that arises at the tip of the fork and sharp-edged knife when you cut into a piece of tender ribeye steak sprinkled with flaked salt and freshly ground pepper… That electric charge touches the tongue, exciting and stimulating the receptors depending on the degree of doneness. You wash down the steak with earthy, mossy red wine from the restaurant’s cellar, briefly closing your eyes, and that moment can be enough to transport you to your own nirvana. The pleasure from a piece of meat and a sip of wine is imprinted in your memory just as vividly as any other form of ecstasy.

And what about aphrodisiacs? Oysters! Cinnamon! Foie gras! Their impact on sexual attraction has been well documented throughout history and their effects have been the subject of numerous studies. So why not head to the shop with a secret list of ingredients, prepare them lovingly and serve them by candlelight once the kids are asleep? Enjoy the company of your workaholic, as all attention will be on you. It’s truly that easy. I won’t supply a list of aphrodisiacs; you’ll easily find one for yourself. Sometimes simply setting the table is half the battle. The perception of colour and the tactile experience of the beautiful dishes create a sense of anticipation for a delicious dinner, and in this moment, my workaholic brightens up. I adore my white ribbed fine china and I am constantly buying new pieces to add to it, but I also appreciate the idea of collecting tableware from various sources — gifts, finds and memories. This often happens in the homes of food photographers as they need new props for shoots. Imagine you’re not just setting the table but selecting a suitable backdrop from a multitude of options, adjusting the lighting for the most delicious and alluring photograph — you’ll achieve a superb result! For me, this is a reliable way of ensuring that the object of my desire will, at the very least, be captivated by the appearance of my culinary creation and will appreciate my efforts.

“Exquisitely, diligently, with love” — this is how my partner says I feed him. And the first definition on this list is probably the most important. After all, you can fill your stomach functionally with anything. Without my eye for the exquisite, our life together would resemble a factory canteen: heaps of meat, shapeless sides, a rare serving of salad for vitamins and an equally bland drink. For us, life would become a dull, half-hearted existence. That can’t be allowed!

Our aspirations are so dynamic, our motivations diverse, and the impulses to try this or that burst forth from every nook and cranny. In such a home, stagnation is impossible — neither in thoughts, nor in yearnings, nor in menus. I am always keenly searching for new interpretations of recipes. I’m excited by a new ingredient, be it parsnip root at one time or now the unbeatable Brussels sprout. I am enchanted by culinary magic, and I simply love to surprise. That’s the secret. And the reaction of my husband, who is generous with his praise, is also important.

For example, salmon can be baked in a number of different ways. It can be simple as can be, with just salt, pepper and olive oil. Or, for a more adventurous version, you can create an amazing sauce with a simple flick of the hand (see the recipe section).

This paragraph isn’t about alcohol. Nor is it about the regularity of our outings, though that does create attachment and habit. It’s another sketch about love. These are moments when it’s important to be together, outside the home, just the two of us, without children. It’s important to look into each other’s soft eyes with the same affectionate and warm gaze as the flickers of fire in the fireplace, by which you’ve settled into the red leather armchairs. The drink doesn’t matter. The atmosphere envelops, conversation flows quickly and the level of our relationship rises. We flirt a bit, even though we’ve been married for twenty- five years. From these talks emerge new insights, plans of action and once again warmth, now of a deep friendship and support.

It is not the drink that is important here; it’s more the savoured location and togetherness, and the substance of our conversations. Someone else’s choice of location may be a quiet café. But moments like these are beneficial for maintaining health in a couple and serve as a constant refuge from the storms that may arise within relationships.

I confess, there have been times when fatigue and disillusionment with my role have made me want to throw in the towel and stop putting such effort into caring for my workaholic. But what would be the alternative? Do I want to rely on serving my family fast food and ready meals? Why did I decide that the role of a hostess has to be altruistic and nothing else is possible?

These doubts about my significance can strike like vultures, spoiling my appetite. They interfere with the enjoyable task of pairing ingredients: look, there are courgettes and peas in the fridge, white wine on the shelf, lemon, mint and rice. I’ll make vegetable risotto… Or perhaps I’ll cut the courgette into sticks, roast them with ginger, garlic, ground coriander, cumin and olive oil, and then mix in a bunch of coriander… Such thoughts distract me just as effectively as relaxing music. They are magically soothing and make my stomach rumble.

I am often accused of creaminess, bakery softness and kind- heartedness. I consider that a compliment. I could don all-black and metamorphose into a radically different archetype. I could, but I won’t. Because I prefer love in the form of warm milk with honey foam before bed. Anticipating desires and bringing slippers in both the literal and figurative sense. This is my love language, which has worked consistently for twenty-five years. Perhaps I am fortunate to have a uniquely responsive partner who appreciates my efforts and has exclaimed “Delicious!” a million times. Yet still, it is these gestures of affection, compliments and the care of a hostess that constitute the process of taming my workaholic.

I forget any grudges and return to the kitchen, where I am queen and star chef. I inhale the aroma of sesame oil and spin in a waltz. I mix the oil in a marinade with liquid honey, English mustard, soy sauce and the same white wine, roasting chicken in it. I am needed. I am in demand. My workaholic is tamed. This brings me optimism and energy.

Or rather, their invasion. When the degree of social activity reaches its boiling point, and the schedule of trips and meetings overflows and seems fit to burst at the seams, this is the moment to stop and order pizza because constantly cooking and trying to outdo oneself can drive you mad!

My cherished loved ones, who admire my dinners and demand seconds and additions to the feast, don’t always fully appreciate that I’ve organised a pop-up restaurant at home for them, along with procuring the necessary products for the menu, the finalising of which is no mean feat. The children won’t eat one thing, the adults prefer a different sauce... With a touch of adventurousness and driven by the necessity to diversify these dinners, I perform wonders of ingenuity, orchestrating kitchen processes so that I’m simultaneously stirring the sauté in the pan on the stove while closing the oven with my foot. I don’t always have time for dessert, as the oven is in continuous use. When the table is set for seven, the guests have settled around it and the food is beautifully presented — with just a few drops of truffle honey — I can finally sit and slowly sink into my seat. After the meal, I cast a sorrowful glance at the aftermath of the feast and struggle to see where to begin with the washing up. It’s unlikely I’ll manage to partake in the light, enjoyable conversations. The smile slips from my face and I’m hardly paying attention to what’s happening. This example with guests is indicative as it questions the order of my own desires. To be frank, while setting the table, I am no longer thinking about what I want for myself. I displace myself from the lovely social picture, but often it’s much more vital and beneficial to care for oneself.

It can be sufficient to close my eyes and ask myself: how am I doing right now? How do I feel? Am I tired? Do I have any aches? Am I emotionally exhausted? Do I have any energy left? If things are dire and I’m nearly out of steam, I order sushi or pizza. If I’m full of beans, sprightly, bouncing around the kitchen with ease and, importantly, moving about brings me pleasure — then I continue on.

My workaholic’s mood can plummet rapidly. One minute everything is calm and then suddenly, entirely unexpectedly, it thickens, twisting into a vortex of a storm and out comes deafening lightning and thunder. At first, I remain in innocent naivety, unable to quickly grasp what has befallen him. I feel just as bad as my now-upset companion. A short while later, when the prickly stupor lifts, I gather my thoughts and attempt to analyse how to help my charge. And then it dawns on me… Of course! He’s hungry! He needs to be fed!

My husband is like a child in this regard; and sometimes struggles to control himself when his stomach growls and needs urgent culinary-psychological assistance. Forgetful workaholics like mine may neglect their primary needs. When his emotions are just the tip of the iceberg, the simplest way to calm the storm is to invite him to the table. From there, I can calmly delve into what the real, substantive problem is and decide whether intervention is needed or whether I should take a step back, giving my beloved space to calm down.

Movement is synonymous with life. We sometimes see that when a person retires, they seem to become smaller, particularly if they are a workaholic, who sees no meaning in the holiday homes or barbecues, nor in the city or theatres. Some workaholics may struggle to keep moving once their primary focus is no longer in play. They may avoid changing direction, sticking to the beaten path. It is important to find new ways to keep a former workaholic’s zest for life finely honed. You can start preparing for retirement well in advance, not only financially but also emotionally.

How I understand this task: for me, upon reaching maturity, it is necessary to ensure that both my workaholic and I are not bored alone with ourselves. I believe it’s quite simple — if, while alone, you find yourself interesting, with things to engage in that are out of the ordinary or thoughts that are unconventional, you are in for a happy old age. I therefore encourage my workaholic to have an active life perspective regarding not only work but also leisure interests — that’s what unites us. I observe repeatedly that he enjoys the moment, transcending work-related stress, breathing deeply and paying attention to the spring blooms. He will be endlessly grateful for membership to a favourite museum, joint film nights, walks along the shoreline and concerts for which I’ve bought tickets six months in advance. Why is it always better to get out and about than to stay at home? Quite simply, because it’s more challenging to stay still when you’re outside. It’s the same as working from your bedroom — practically “mission impossible”: the bed will lure you in with its mere presence. Even worse is working from a hotel room, where the ever-present bed holds the dominant position. Moreover, the distance between the desk and the bed is often so small that, during work calls, you’re tempted to lean over unceremoniously and dive into the embrace of the pillows. If that already happens now, what does it say about preparing for retirement? By shifting your status to active and engaged while not forgetting to organise breaks, you can exceed your goals. You’ll be investing in both the present and the future.

It is not always clear what the right course of action is. I sometimes find myself wondering, did something happen at work or did some other unrelated event push my workaholic into a corner? He sometimes wants to either isolate himself or flee far away from the city with the noisy family, or even just curl up with a blanket and peacefully sleep. I find these scenarios puzzling and sometimes wonder if I’m the reason for his low mood. But maybe I jump to these conclusions too soon! I often find that by the following week, everything will settle, good news will outweigh the mediocre and we once again have something to laugh about and something positive to discuss.

So what truly matters to us throughout the long years together? Through all the challenges and joys — it’s important for us to be present for one another. Even when my partner feels truly unwell, in whatever dismal circumstance or mood he may find himself, I touch his shoulder and simply say: “I’m with you”. Then I retreat to the kitchen, the warmest and cosiest place in the house. Here I might be overwhelmed by feelings and perhaps tears will seep through, but home-cooked lunches and dinners haven’t been cancelled; my culinary creations are needed now more than ever.

I prepare something enjoyable. For instance, I may grate carrot and apple, dress them with lemon juice and honey, and add crushed walnuts. A small detail, yet it will delight my workaholic. Of course, you could just eat the apple as it is and even crunch on the carrot without peeling it, followed by a handful of nuts. But in that simplicity, the main ingredient will be absent — care. That sign that, no matter what, I am here. I spread gentle rays around me, positive charged vibes. From my unseen presence, sunlight will flicker everywhere, like from a disco ball, creating sunbeams and it will be unrepeatable. I am there, with an apple and carrot salad in hand. And I know that, in this role, I am irreplaceable.

Understanding individuals insist that this is undeniably important. The ability to appreciate the beauty of life to a sufficient degree and to feel content with oneself and one’s circumstances. It seems to me that quality of life can indeed be interpreted in this way. There’s no requirement to turn both weekends and weekdays into a series of gastronomic escapades, purchase a spa membership or even relocate to a tropical paradise. To sample only the most expensive wine, to drive the most premium car within your budget — no, it’s not about money or how much you have. The secret to the comfort and emotional balance of a workaholic lies in the consistent selection of the best experiences, surroundings, places and products from your own perspective. Those that align with your values. For instance, if you’re a raw vegan and have discovered a delightful radish with remarkable sweetness and crunch, how wonderful that makes you feel! Or perhaps you adore the sun-warmed stone villages of Upper Provence, and find yourself winding the car along a road surrounded by lavender fields, popping into the nougat boutique in the town of Sault. Happiness envelops you and life is imbued with quality and meaning.

On the other hand, when the scene becomes worn out and you find yourself feeling tired or even exhausted, you may not notice the blossoming cherry trees on the way to work or the snowflakes on the windshield of the car you clean every morning. At times like these, I find it’s difficult to settle the kids down early, as I too am caught in a routine. I almost find myself dozing off while moving, in a constant state of disorientation, and it’s incredibly hard to summon the motivation to get things done.

So what do I do when faced with this situation? I choose a prettier bunch of radishes, drive to the lavender fields or somewhere equivalent, treat myself to a new dress, indulge myself and my loved ones — I give the kids a handful of berries atop yogurt or porridge, and other delightful little things: ice cream, bubble tea, amusement rides, hikes and trips. I am also particularly considerate of the wellbeing of my workaholic, offering him delightful experiences, from the more extravagant hot air ballooning, creating his own whisky blend or sampling a festive caviar menu, to simple gestures of kindness. I’m not exaggerating! With a touch of creativity, this list can transform into any number of exciting events where I am the source of inspiration. I give meaning to his earning money, and he will breathe deeply again and begin to move forwards with renewed energy.