I sometimes wonder where these women are who finish a full day’s work, collect their children from school, squeeze in a workout and still produce a beautifully presented family dinner. I suspect they are either AI, have an exceptionally well-organised kitchen or somebody quietly doing the washing-up behind the scenes. My evenings tend to involve a school bag abandoned in the hallway, a washing machine that finished its cycle hours earlier and me standing in front of the fridge wondering what I can make without another trip to Tesco.

Being a working mum in midlife has made me less ambitious about weekday cooking. I still enjoy making a proper meal, especially when I’ve got time to experiment with Persian recipes, but there are days when my enthusiasm and energy disappears somewhere between the final work email and the question of what’s for dinner. Add a gym session, a little perimenopausal brain fog and the usual family demands, and I’m hardly in the mood to start washing mountains of fresh herbs.

This is where Sosis Bandari earns its place in our kitchen. It’s an easy Iranian dish made with sliced pre-cooked hot dog sausages, onions, peppers, tomato paste and spices. Nothing fancy, and nothing that needs me to consult three cookbooks before switching on the hob. Yet once the onions begin to soften in the turmeric and the tomato sauce starts bubbling away, the kitchen smells as though I’ve made more effort than I actually have.

H gets something familiar from his Iranian food culture, Cyrus gets a filling dinner, and I get to sit down with a glass of something nice before somebody remembers they need a clean PE kit or something for senior school visit for the following morning.

Sosis Bandari is a popular Iranian fast-food dish associated with southern Iran and its port cities. The word Bandari refers to the ports, where the local food culture is known for bold flavours and generous use of spices. It’s not the sort of Persian dish that arrives at the table surrounded by bowls of saffron rice and carefully arranged herbs. This is food made for H when he’s hungry who wants something substantial without waiting half the afternoon for it.

You’ll often find Sosis Bandari served in sandwich shops, where sliced hot dog sausages are cooked with onions, tomato paste and spices before being stuffed into soft bread. Some cooks add potatoes, others, like H, prefer plenty of chilli, and the exact combo tends to depend on who’s standing at the stove. Like so many traditional dishes, there are probably as many variations as there are people prepared to argue about the correct way to make it.

The sauce is what makes it interesting. The onions bring sweetness, the turmeric adds warmth and the tomato paste gives everything a rich, slightly tangy coating. It’s quite different from the sausage sandwiches I grew up eating in Britain, where a dollop of tomato ketchup or brown sauce was as exciting as it got.

I like serving it with pickled vegetables because their sharpness works well against the richness of the hot dogs. A little plain yoghurt on the side is also useful, especially if you’ve been enthusiastic with the chilli. I keep the main pan fairly mild because Cyrus is eating with us, and I don’t fancy cooking separate meals for everybody.

Marrying into a Persian family has broadened my cooking repertoire. Before H, I was much more familiar with British Sunday dinners, but Iranian food introduced me to a different approach to ingredients, seasoning and the importance of a properly prepared meal. Saffron, turmeric, dried limes, fresh herbs and rice all became features of my kitchen, although I still sometimes find myself staring at a recipe and wondering whether I’ve underestimated the preparation time.

One thing I’ve noticed about Persian cooking is how much attention can go into dishes that appear deceptively simple. Rice, for example, isn’t merely boiled. There’s soaking, draining, steaming and, if you’re lucky, that wonderful golden tahdig at the bottom of the pan which takes a lot of patience to get right. I’ve developed enormous respect for anyone who can produce perfect Persian rice while supervising homework and answering questions about where somebody has left their swimming goggles.

I love those meals, especially when we’re celebrating something or have the time to sit together properly. But I also appreciate the less elaborate side of Iranian cooking, the everyday dishes that don’t take an afternoon in the kitchen. Sosis Bandari belongs in that category, and it’s one of the reasons I return to it when the week starts running away from me.

It’s important to me that Cyrus grows up with both sides of his family’s food culture. He’s British, with a Persian dad, and I want the dishes we eat at home to feel ordinary rather than something we only bring out for Nowruz or special occasions. Food is one of the easiest ways to keep those connections alive, even when the meal in question involves a packet of hot dogs and a frying pan.

I had Cyrus at 40, which means I’ve spent much of my forties juggling motherhood with work, exercise and all the other responsibilities that seem to multiply as the years go by. I wouldn’t change having him later in life, but I do sometimes look at my younger self and wonder how I managed to waste entire weekends doing very little. These days, an uninterrupted hour with a coffee and something decent to read feels luxurious.

After a busy day, particularly if I’ve squeezed in a workout, I don’t necessarily want to come home and spend another hour standing over the cooker. I want to eat, catch up with my family and enjoy a few minutes when nobody needs anything from me.

Perimenopause hasn’t exactly made the daily juggling act easier. Some days my concentration is fine, while on others I can walk into the kitchen and forget what I went there for. I’ve learnt to appreciate routines and recipes that don’t take too much mental effort, especially when I’ve already spent the day thinking about everybody else’s priorities.

Sosis Bandari’s ingredients are straightforward, the cooking process is easy and I can usually make it without consulting a recipe. There’s no complicated timing involved, no need to keep several pans going at once and no disaster if the onions cook for another minute while I deal with something happening elsewhere in the house.

I wouldn’t call it a nutritional masterpiece and I wouldn’t suggest living on hot dogs, but not every family dinner needs to be as social media tells us it should be.

This is my version of Sosis Bandari, adapted for our family and the ingredients I can easily buy in Newcastle. I don’t claim it’s the definitive Iranian recipe, and I’m quite sure there are Persian cooks who would do things differently. But it tastes good, doesn’t take long and has rescued more than one evening when I’ve run out of inspiration.

Ingredients

• 4–6 pre-cooked hot dog sausages, sliced into approximately 5 mm rounds
• 2 medium onions, peeled and finely sliced
• 1 yellow or green pepper, diced
• 4 tablespoons tomato paste (tomato purée)
• ½ teaspoon turmeric, or to taste
• A pinch of black pepper
• Salt, to taste
• Up to 6 tablespoons cooking oil, or less if preferred
• A splash of water, if needed
• Flatbreads or soft bread rolls, to serve
• Pickled vegetables and plain yoghurt, to serve

How to make Sosis Bandari

1. Prepare the ingredients. Peel and finely slice the onions, dice the pepper and cut the pre-cooked hot dog sausages into rounds approximately 5 mm thick. I find it easier to have everything ready before I start cooking, especially when Cyrus is hovering nearby asking when dinner will be ready.
2. Cook the onions. Heat around 4 tablespoons of oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the sliced onions and turmeric, stirring occasionally until the onions soften and turn golden. This usually takes around 10 minutes. Remove them from the pan and set aside.
3. Brown the hot dogs. Add a little more oil to the pan if needed, up to 2 tablespoons. Fry the sliced hot dogs for a few minutes until lightly browned and heated through, then remove them and set aside. Because they’re already cooked, you’re simply warming them and adding a little colour.
4. Make the sauce. Add the diced pepper to the same pan and cook for a few minutes until it starts to soften. Stir in the tomato paste and black pepper, allowing the mixture to cook briefly. If it looks too thick, add a small splash of water to loosen it.
5. Bring everything together. Return the onions and hot dog slices to the pan, stirring until everything is coated in the tomato sauce. Let the mixture cook for a few more minutes until the flavours have combined and everything is piping hot. Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary.
6. Serve while hot. Spoon the mixture into warm flatbreads or bread rolls and serve with pickled vegetables and plain yoghurt. If you like your food spicy, add a little chilli sauce or fresh chilli to your portion.

The finished dish should have plenty of soft onions and a thick tomato coating rather than a watery sauce. I like the hot dog slices to have a little colour on them, and I always make sure there’s enough onion in the pan because, for me, that’s half the appeal.

The biggest mistake you can make with Sosis Bandari is rushing the onions. I know that sounds rather precious for a recipe involving hot dogs, but they really do make a difference. Give them time to soften and develop some colour, and the finished dish has a much better flavour. Throw everything into the pan at once and you’ll still get dinner, but it won’t taste quite the same.

I’ve also learnt not to worry too much about sticking rigidly to the ingredients. If I’ve got a pepper that needs using, I’ll add it. If H wants more heat, he can have extra chilli. Some versions include potatoes, which make the dish more filling, although I tend to leave them out when I’m short of time.

The other thing worth remembering is that hot dog sausages don’t need much time in the pan. They’re already cooked, so a few minutes is enough to warm them through and give the edges a little colour. Leave them frying for too long and they can become dry and rather rubbery, which isn’t what you want.

And although Sosis Bandari is often eaten in flat bread, I don’t think there’s any need to be strict about how you serve it at home. A warm flatbread is lovely, but a soft bread roll works just as well. If I’m feeling organised, I’ll put some cucumber, tomatoes and yoghurt on the table too. If I’m not, everyone gets their dinner and I’m satisfied with that.

Some of my favourite memories of Persian food involve the effort that goes into family celebrations. There’s something quite wonderful about a table covered with different dishes, the smell of saffron and herbs, and the way food becomes part of the occasion rather than simply something to eat.

But those meals take work, and I think we sometimes forget that when we talk about traditional cooking. Behind every beautifully presented dish is usually somebody who’s spent a huge amount of time preparing it. Often, that somebody is a woman who has also been doing a dozen other things.

As I’ve got older, I’ve become much more conscious of how easily women can end up carrying the expectation that everything at home should be done properly. The meals should be nutritious, the house should be tidy, the children should be happy and we should somehow find time to look after ourselves too. It’s an impressive list, especially when you’re also expected to earn a living.

I don’t have much interest in pretending that I manage all of it effortlessly. Our home is lived in, the washing doesn’t always get folded straight away and some evenings I would much rather sit with a coffee than start preparing a big dinner.

That doesn’t mean I care any less about what my family eats. It just means I’ve become more realistic about how much time and energy I have available. There’s a difference between enjoying cooking and feeling obliged to produce something impressive every night.

Sosis Bandari is a good reminder that Persian food doesn’t always have to be fancy to be worth making. It’s part of the everyday food culture that sits alongside the stews, rice dishes and special-occasion meals, and I like giving that side of Iranian cooking some attention.

There are plenty of things I want Cyrus to remember about growing up in our household. I hope he remembers the Persian traditions we celebrate, the food H introduces him to and the mixture of British and Iranian family life that makes our home what it is.

I also hope he grows up understanding that a family meal doesn’t have to be complicated to matter. Some of the nicest conversations happen over the simplest dinners, when nobody is concerned about how the food looks and we’re just catching up with each other.

Now I’m in my forties, I’m increasingly aware that time and energy are things worth spending carefully. I still want to cook, exercise, work, write and enjoy being a mum, but I don’t feel the need to make every part of life unnecessarily difficult. There are enough demands on the average weekday without adding an elaborate dinner to the list.

So, when the fridge looks uninspiring and I’ve got very little enthusiasm left for cooking, I’ll happily reach for the hot dogs, onions and tomato paste. H gets a taste of home, Cyrus gets his dinner and I get to put my feet up a little sooner.