My third-born is a baker. (She got that from her father - I hate following such precise instructions.) If there’s a recipe for it, she can make it. And then she makes it better.
Cakes.
Cookies.
Biscuits.
Macarons.
She’s gifted.
Not too long ago, she told me that she wanted to give sourdough bread a try. I gave her an enthusiastic yes and did an internal high five because I knew what that meant - lots and lots and lots of fresh sourdough bread for us to eat.
Naturally, she decided to grow her own starter instead of buying one, so she would have her very own little baby that she made completely from scratch.
She added flour and water, set the jar out, and fed it daily until, finally, it smelled just right.
And then she baked.
*Insert drool emoji*
As my kids and I were standing around the counter, eating fresh sourdough bread with butter, waiting for some soup to finish cooking, someone commented on how freaking delicious our meals were and that we were basically just living like peasants.
“Yeah,” my son said. “We’re totally peasant maxing!”
Oh, Gen Z, I do love some of the stuff you come up with.
We all laughed and started listing the things that we typically make from scratch and how easy it is and how much better it tastes. And I realized that over the years, the farther away I got from peasant maxing, the more unhappy I became because I felt so out of touch with what’s important.
Really, peasant maxing is just living mindfully within your means.
The less mindful I got, the more time I spent away from my home and family. I bought more things I didn’t need and spent more in general.
I remember one point, a few years ago, when our income was at its highest, and I felt very unhappy and thought, “You know, it was stressful when we were broke, but I like how intentional I had to be about everything. I MISS that.”
And then I continued on living and spending with my head planted firmly up my ass. Oh well.
I met a friend of mine for drinks the other night and told her about peasant maxing. We shared a good laugh and then I told her that I’m teaching a workshop soon on how to eat healthy without blowing up your budget because I keep hearing how expensive health food is.
“That’s crazy!” she said. “Health food is really cheap. It’s just ingredients.”
My sentiments exactly.
And then we went on to gush over how amazing potatoes are and planned a potato-themed get-together after she told me about this amazing (yet incredibly complex) potato recipe she found on the NY Times app. Next month, we’ll have a bean-themed party.
I can’t wait.
I’m grateful for friends who joyfully embrace peasant maxing with me.
Peasant maxing pays dividends.
It seems that many of the joyful and fulfilling aspects of my life were a direct result of peasant maxing.
(All of the big change in my life came after I decided I was going to do whatever I could to get out of debt so I could be home with my babies. Which meant being intentional AF.)
Especially lately, when we’re all sitting on the couch chatting in the evenings, I’m seeing the dividends of all the time and effort invested in also teaching the kids how to peasant max.
Things like how to cook and fix things instead of throwing them away and generally question the status quo.
Peasant maxing is really an empowering mindset.
Because really, you can find yourself in an undesirable situation and look around and think, “Man, this sucks. I can’t do anything to change it. I’ll just be miserable.”
(Although, anyone conscious enough to intentionally think that eventually realizes they have the power to change it.)
You don’t have to be broke, either. If you do it when you’re well off, you won’t ever get to the point of needing to peasant max.
Peasant maxing is looking around and deciding to intentionally make the best of life, no matter your circumstances.
Plus there’s good food. It’s a win-win.
