It was the chickpea dinner again.

By Wednesday I had saved seven dinner ideas and cooked none of them. Each required one ingredient I did not own and a level of chopping I was no longer interested in discussing.

In the cupboard were chickpeas, tomatoes and rice. There was an onion. This was enough for the dinner I had made on Monday, which was precisely why I kept looking for something else.

I had begun treating repetition as evidence that I was not looking after myself properly. This was an odd conclusion to draw while standing hungry in front of food I liked.

I asked whether I wanted to eat it.

The answer was yes. I put the phone down, took out the familiar pan and started. I did not need to turn a saved video back to the beginning every time somebody mentioned a quantity.

My sister called while I was stirring. She asked what I was making. I gave the name we had always used for it: the chickpea dinner. She said she had made the egg dinner. Our family has a strong tradition of distinguishing meals by their main visible feature.

We talked while I finished cooking. I used a bowl I liked and sat at the table. I had intended to watch something, but she was telling me about a colleague who had accidentally booked a meeting room for an entire month.

The dinner was familiar enough that I could pay attention to the story. It tasted the way I expected. That was welcome information.

I kept the ordinary option available.

At the weekend I added those ingredients to the shopping list again. I also chose one new meal I actually wanted to try and checked what it needed before going out. Seven saved recipes had become one real plan.

There were evenings when I wanted something different, and evenings when someone else chose. I was not committing to a permanent menu. I was keeping a dinner I could make without opening a discussion with the entire internet.

The following Wednesday I made it again. I added the lemon I had remembered to buy. This was enough novelty for the evening.

My sister messaged a photograph of her dinner. It contained eggs. I told her she should give it a name.