An ode to the Sunday supper: The Good Food team share their old and new comfort foods

Our writers cast their minds back to a time long before the concepts of “Sunday scaries” or high-protein meal prepping existed. A simpler time, when Sunday night meant a cobbled-together fridge-dive dinner or something familiar, easy and/or cheesy, preferably eaten on the couch. The common thread through all these recipes and memories: low-effort comfort.

Emily Holgate

Nostalgic: Bacon and egg butties

Growing up, particularly when my mum worked nights in hospitality, weekends were for Dad’s cooking – which often meant bacon and egg butties. I stand by the logic to this day: there’s nothing better than breakfast for dinner on a school night. Dad sourced inspiration from his dad, a bricklayer from Manchester who was similarly fond of the breakfast butty supper. It was a simple affair (fried egg, bacon rashers, slice of tasty cheese, sauce), bar the bread, often baked fresh by my old man at some point over the weekend. If you want to get fancy with it, try Matt Wilkinson’s recipe for home-made brown sauce.

Modern: Tomato soup and a cheese toastie

One of my ultimate lazy comfort dishes to cure anything from a hangover to the Sunday scaries is a grilled cheese toastie dunked in a piping hot bowl of rich tomato soup. As a kid, I’d heat up the Campbell’s tinned stuff, chuck a couple of slices of Helga’s in the jaffle iron and call it a day. Nowadays, I try to put in a bit more effort (as much as my Sunday evening self will allow). Jessica Brook’s kimchi tomato soup with spicy gochujang cheese toasties is a winning combo, and easy to whip up while watching TV.

Annabel Smith

Nostalgic: Grilled English muffins with creamed corn and cheese

Mum’s weekend platters of “bits and pieces” were on my family table decades before the concept of “girl dinner” existed. In cooler months, us girls would get our cheese fix by splitting an English muffin, generously schmearing both halves with canned cream corn, seasoning with cracked black pepper and sea salt flakes, draping with slices of tasty or Swiss cheese, then placing under the grill until pockmarked and bubbling.

Modern: Chicken chilaquiles

Nowadays, I turn the remnants of a bachelor’s handbag into a Mexican breakfast-for-dinner winner, chilaquiles verdes. Simmer sturdy − preferably triangular − corn chips in store-bought green salsa (look for one with tomatillos) in a saucepan, briefly stir through a handful each of shredded chicken and grated mozzarella until the cheese is melted, then pour into shallow bowls. Garnish with dollops of reheated refried black beans (optional), sliced avocado, diced salad onion, crumbled feta, a drizzle of crema (sour cream thinned with milk) and fresh coriander. It’s a soggy-crispy, ugly-delicious flavour fiesta you can eat on the couch with a fork.

Andrea McGinniss

Nostalgic: Rissoles

Whaddaya call this, Mum? Rissoles! Bewwdiful. The Aussie classic features prominently in my childhood mems along with Sale of the Century and A-ha. Mum made good rissoles, still does sometimes – hefty mince pucks, juicy, beefy with craggy caramelised edges – the OG smash burger for ’80s kids. Served simple with mash and peas and gravy, it was peak meat and two veg times, and a great way to round out the week before watching Jana Wendt and pals on 60 Minutes with the family.

Modern: Baked potatoes

You say potato, and I say hell yes, especially on a Sunday night when energy is low and carbs needs are high, before Monday’s eat-more-greens pledge rolls around, once again. There’s literally nothing easier than baked potatoes, scrubbed, punctured and popped into the oven until floury and too hot to handle. Smother in butter, a tin of Sirena tuna, cheese, sour cream or Kewpie mayo, seasoning and whatever herbs are lurking in the crisper so it’s not a complete beige-fest. Bonus points for no washing up, either – a non-negotiable on a Sunday night.

David Matthews

Nostalgic: Crumbed sausages and cutlets

Divorce, hey. It’s definitely no fun, but I have to say that as a kid, it really unlocked some new eating experiences: Dad’s baked chicken sausages on brown bread with tomato sauce; his mum’s meatloaf; Thai or Lebanese or Italian up the road on Monday and Wednesday nights. But the big one was going to my grandma Norma’s place every second weekend, when she’d crumble up Jatz (I know!) with a wine bottle then use them to crumb cutlets and thick beef sausages that she would then bake in the oven. Potatoes, a tomato-onion bake, crispy bacon, gravy and the best peas ever. Not exactly good for you, but you better believe it’s good for the soul.

Modern: Ribollita

I’m not a minestrone guy. Something about the texture of pasta when it soaks up too much water (inevitable in this cursed soup) just gives me the ick. But have you tried ribollita? Ditch the macaroni and reach for the stale sourdough in your breadbox. Sweat some soffritto, throw in a parmesan rind, some pancetta if you have it, then give it some heft with some cavolo nero and white beans. Right at the end, tear your leftover bread into chunks, let it soften in the liquid, then finish it with some more cheese. One-pot Tuscan peasant cooking, on the couch, watching The Pitt.

Sarah Norris

Nostalgic: Corned silverside

Mum made me fall in love with food – she even made what many people think is a completely daggy and terrible dish something I looked forward to as a kid: corned beef. It was always made on Sunday, so the big hunk of beef could bubble away on the stove. She served hers with cheesy white sauce and wilted silverbeet splashed with vinegar, another fave of mine.

• Neil Perry’s recipe for corned silverside with mustard sauce

Modern: Jazzed-up two-minute noodles

These days we either go with something elaborate on the barbecue or oven, or the complete opposite: two-minute noodles, but add embellishments. They can be leftover meat crisped up in the pan, a handful of spring onions, sometimes tossed through a peanut-style sauce. And always topped with chilli crisp oil.

Callan Boys

Nostalgic: Supermarket tacos

Mexican purists, turn away now. I’ve got a thing for the Old El Paso kit. Sunday night was taco night in our house when I was growing up, and my earliest cooking memory is adding a flavouring sachet to cheap mince in an electric Sunbeam frypan. A big part of the appeal was the independence to build each taco and choose your own quantities of cheese (a lot), lettuce (some) and chopped tomato (no thanks, but do we have any Rosella?). Even now, I still get hankerings for the comfort of a hard-shell taco filled with industrially seasoned beef, shredded iceberg and as much Bega tasty as physics allows.

Modern: Sausage and bitter green (or broccoli) pasta

I can’t think of a combination that says “we’re spending Sunday night in front of the telly with Poirot” quite like crumbled sausage meat stirred through whatever pasta has been hibernating in the pantry. (Well, maybe whisky and an Anzac biscuit, but that only comes around once a year.) With a bit of extra planning, you can go the full Puglia and do it with pork and fennel sausage, orecchiette and cime de rapa, but any pasta and sausage combination will do in a pinch, and even the bitter green component is kinda optional (although in our family, chilli flakes are not).

Roslyn Grundy

Nostalgic: Soft-boiled eggs with soldiers

Cue the wavy flashback: the image dissolves to a smaller me, cocooned in a dressing gown with sleeves that keep sliding into the butter, and hair still damp from the bath. I’m hunched over the table, giving the egg top a tentative tap-tap with my spoon until the shell finally splinters. I pry off the jagged lid to find the jammy yolk, ready to coat a parade of buttery white-bread soldiers. Hurry. The Wonderful World of Disney is about to start.

Modern: Tuna pasta

When the kids were little, “tuna pasta” was one of the few dinners that guaranteed a “YES!” Spaghetti all’isolana (island-style spaghetti) is a recipe I’ve carried since my teens, clipped from a newspaper and yellowed with age. The ritual is muscle memory: fry garlic in olive oil, toss in 12 chopped black olives – I still count them out – and add a can of flaked tuna with a fistful of parsley. After five minutes of sizzling, I pour in half a cup of wine. White or red, it doesn’t matter; you just let the alcohol bubble away until the sauce tightens. Tossed with spaghetti and a final hit of fresh green, it’s a dish that still hits the spot every time.

Bianca Hrovat

Nostalgic: Pasta e fagioli

Pasta e fagioli reminds me of afternoons at my Nonna’s house. A rerun of an American soap opera would be playing on the TV, she’d be pottering between the stove and the pantry, and I’d be sitting on the kitchen bench, sharing my innermost teenage secrets. Danielle Alvarez’s recipe is a little fancier than Nonna’s version, which subbed in stock cubes, canned kidney beans and a handful of whatever pasta was leftover in the pantry (risoni preferred). Always served with toast for dipping, and an ice cube if the broth was too hot.

Modern: Kimchi cheese toasties

Do the health benefits of fermentation disappear when kimchi is sandwiched between two slices of Norco Natural Dairy cheese? It’s one of the best flavour/texture combos: spicy pickled cabbage, melted cheese and rye sourdough. Seasoned with too much salt, both slices of bread buttered before hitting the frypan, and one side smeared with a little Kewpie mayo.

Pro-tip: fry the sandwich open-faced first, sprinkling a little water onto the cheese and the pan, then covering with the lid to create steam and make it all melty. Then top it with the second slice and flip. It won’t cure your hangover (you’ve got Shin Ramyun noodles for that – also great with cheese), but it will make you happier.

Megan Johnston

Nostalgic: Dad’s fritters

If there’s a core culinary memory from my childhood, it has to be Dad’s fritters. More like savoury pikelets than the fancy fritters you might find in a cafe, these snacks were the ultimate savoury supper to me, and the perfect medium for swiping up Franklins’ finest No Frills tomato sauce. The batter was basic: 1 cup of self-raising flour, 1 cup milk and 1 egg, mixed with a can of corn kernels or, if we were super lucky, leftover bites of roast beef or lamb. Each dollop was fried in the old Sunbeam electric frypan, and voila – 10-year-old me was in heaven.

• Adam Liaw’s everything fritters recipe

Modern: Miso tofu soup

One of the easiest and most comforting suppers these days is a super simple miso tofu soup. The secret is the base − a brown rice miso I stumbled upon at my local farmers’ markets from Sydney-based organic brand Enokido Miso. It’s nutty, grainy and filling, with a deep, rich umami. Nothing like the miso you’ll find in supermarkets and many restaurants.

Enokido Miso’s recipe suggests boiling 1 cup of water with cubed tofu and wakame, then stirring in a tablespoon of miso, and sprinkling with toasted sesame seeds and spring onion. I prefer using crumbled silken tofu for a custardy texture, and roasted seaweed snacks, rather than wakame, for extra crunch. Min effort, max flavour.