Most prep programs put you on a low-fiber diet for a few days before the procedure. Here is what that allows, and what to actually cook.
Slow, soft eggs that fold rather than crumble, on hot buttered toast.
Rice cooked right down into a thick savory porridge. Deeply comforting and very easy to eat.
Custardy in the middle, crisp at the edges, syrup soaking into all of it.
Warm and smooth, sweetened with honey and a very ripe banana.
A short stack with butter melting into it and syrup pooling underneath.
Cold sweet melon and honey against thick plain yogurt.
A just-set yolk to dip hot toast fingers into.
Thick, cold and sweet enough to feel like a treat.
Creamy eggs folded around melting cheese.
The soup everyone means when they say they want soup.
Cold, salty and creamy on soft white bread.
Deli turkey, mild cheese, cold cucumber, buttered bread.
Pasta al burro. Butter and cheese pulled into a glossy sauce, and almost nothing else.
Creamy, peppery egg salad on soft bread.
Deep gold on the outside, molten in the middle.
Sweet, salty, and exactly what you wanted when you were nine.
Savory, salty broth with tofu that barely holds together.
Tender chicken, and rice that has taken up all the stock it cooked in.
Flaking white fish over soft potatoes, pan juices spooned over both.
Rich, loose and salty. The most luxurious thing on the list.
Juicy thighs, with rice underneath catching everything that renders out.
Garlic-scented oil clinging to hot spaghetti. Four ingredients.
Silky salmon and hot buttered potatoes.
One pot, cooked long enough that everything gives way to a spoon.
Loose, buttery, and full of cheese.
White fish under a golden lid of mashed potato, bubbling at the edges.
Barely-set tofu, warm rice, and a salty sauce over both.
Tender meatballs in tomato sauce, worth having while you still can.