The Brussels sprouts at the back of the fridge

The other day, while looking for something entirely different, I “found” a handful of Brussels sprouts hiding at the back of my fridge: slightly wilted, no longer at their proud best … and yes, this happens to me too.

Food waste doesn’t always come from excess or overbuying. Often it’s a lack of ideas. We forget what we have, or we don’t quite know what to do with ingredients once they’ve lost their initial sparkle. And that’s usually the moment when good food risks ending up in the bin.

Brussels sprouts are a perfect example: firm and fresh, they’re easy to love. But a few days later, when they look a little tired, they suddenly feel less inspiring even though they are still perfectly good to eat. This is where small shifts in mindset help. Before shopping again, I try to “shop” my fridge first: what’s already there? What wants to be used? Slightly sad vegetables are often ideal for simple, forgiving preparations: roasted at high heat, sliced thinly into a salad, folded into pasta, or stirred into a soup. Heat, seasoning and a little care can do wonders.

Cooking seasonally helps too. When we eat what naturally grows at this time of the year, ideas tend to come more easily — recipes, memories, habits. In winter, brassicas like Brussels sprouts, are not an obligation, but an invitation: hearty, grounding, nourishing. They don’t need much — good olive oil, salt, perhaps a splash of vinegar or a handful of breadcrumbs — to become something deeply satisfying.

Reducing food waste doesn’t require perfection. It starts with noticing. With opening the fridge and seeing potential rather than failure. With trusting that simple food, cooked with intention, is more than enough.

So this is what I made from those Brussels sprouts: I roasted them in good olive oil with a pinch of salt and a touch of cumin until they were tender inside and caramelised at the edges. I tossed them with warm, deeply satisfying lentils, topped everything with sharp, fragrant sumac onions, and laid the whole dish onto a generous bed of a yoghurt/tahini mixture – just to bring freshness and balance. A simple combination, rooted in what was already there. This is exactly the kind of food that reminds me why using what we have is often the most rewarding place to start.

In the end, those Brussels sprouts became a meal that felt grounding, nourishing and quietly generous. Nothing elaborate, nothing wasted, just good, seasonal food, prepared with care and meant to be enjoyed slowly. A reminder that the most meaningful meals are often the simplest ones, rooted in what we have, shared with intention, and shaped by the moment we are in.