After all of the shopping and the prepping and the being on my feet for 12 consecutive hours, I don't very much want to cook at all right now. I contain multitudes.
So I'm letting the pendulum swing squarely into capital-E easy territory over the next few days, sticking to the kind of cooking that makes you question whether you can even really call it cooking.
His 30-minute sheet-pan japchae on standby for the day my body cries out for a tangled heap of vegetables, and his sheet-pan quesadillas at the ready for the day(s) I want little more than a vehicle for crispy, melty cheese.
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