The first meal I ever cooked for myself was ramen. The next 12 were all, also, ramen. So were a sizable percentage of the next hundred. By age 11, as a latchkey kid, I had mastered the art of the Maruchan egg drop, the sliced green onion, the chili and soy sauce and mushroom additions. I learned, early, my love of cumin and coriander. Any ingredient, actually, seemed fair game. I kid somewhat, but it's true: Packaged home ramen has long been the food of the weary, not the proud. And this was a rainy Tuesday, after hours at work. But by the time I got done drizzling chili oil over a pork-chicken shoyu ramen bowl topped with a lightly seared breast of sesame-grilled chicken, heavy laden also with freshly sauteed mushroom and wilted spinach, I felt like I'd accomplished something noteworthy. Not only did dinner look delicious, I did a thing. On a Tuesday. Without trying too hard. This is the promise of meal kits like HelloFresh'the reason people pay more than groceries, but less than...
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