I’ve written previously about dining solo and cooking for one, but recently I came across an important, related issue I’ve never addressed: the fuss.
The Drawbacks of Cooking for One
In his book Going Solo, Eric Klinenberg recounts the story of a single-by-choice woman named Ella. One of Ella’s greatest challenges in feeling content on her own was cooking. Klinenberg writes, “Though Ella has always liked cooking, at first it wasn’t easy to do without company. The elaborate process of planning, shopping, preparing, cooking, and eating felt strange and wasteful when she did it all solo.”
Because this issue isn’t uncommon, I’ve written about a few tips to help solo women enjoy cooking for one. And I take these tips to heart. But somewhere along the lines, I started shirking it off. It just got… tiresome. And kind of pointless.
Klineneberg goes on:
“Ella shared the sentiment that some nay-saying singles conveyed to the food writer and author Judith Jones: ‘I like to cook for others, to give my friends pleasure. Why would I want to go to all that trouble just for me?’ Gradually, however, Ella recognized that cooking for one required cultivating a special talent: the will and capacity to use her time, money, and creative energy to fulfill her own needs.”
The Necessity of Cooking for One
I won’t lie, I have a hard time with cooking. It’s not something I intrinsically enjoy. With two jobs, time is often an issue as well. However, with a rather restricted diet, eating prepared food every day simply isn’t an option. So to avoid monotony, breaking the bank, and consuming a boat load of preservatives, I buy the raw ingredients and cook my meals at home.
To make sure my evenings aren’t devoted entirely to cooking and cleaning, I normally spend part of my day off once per week cooking my meals for the next 5 days. I pull out all the pots, go through all the food preparation, cook, package it for lunches and dinners, and then clean up. It sometimes feels like it takes more time than is necessary, but it’s healthier than buying pre-packaged sides and a heck of a lot cheaper than buying vegan meals. So I do it.
Lately, however, it’s become a lot more of a necessary chore than an enjoyable, fun experience. Again, part of this is because cooking isn’t really my thing, but part of it goes back to what Ella said. For instance, I used to make a lovely eggplant parmigiana for myself. So tasty, so healthy, so vegetarian (veggie cheese, you know). It was the perfect treat. But when I realized how much time it took to produce just a few meals, I stopped. Time is money, after all. And I did not have some 90 minutes to devote to baking eggplant.
The Fuss in Cooking for One
After reading Ella’s revelation, however, I began to rethink it. If I were cooking for someone else on a regular basis, would I feed the same diet of carrots and potatoes every week, just because it was the most time efficient, diet-inclusive food I could make? No. They’d be getting some parmigiana. So why wasn’t I?
Honestly, I just didn’t feel like I was worth the fuss.
That’s not easy to admit, especially since I like to think of myself as a very modern spinster who practices good self-care. But it was the truth. I wasn’t making time for myself the way I’d make time for anyone else. In fact, I wasn’t even preparing loving food for myself the way I do when I have family or friends over. I just tossed those potatoes in the oven and spent the next twenty minutes resenting the clean up.
Meanwhile, my co-worker prepares a full breakfast and full dinner for her spouse and child every day, while balancing a 40+ hour per week job and going to the gym. She makes time for it because she recognizes the importance of it. And if she could make time to cook two full meals from scratch every day for her family, surely I could find it in me to cook a set of decent meals once per week for myself.
I think I’m worth that much fuss.
The Joy of Cooking for One
The tips in How to Enjoy Eating Alone are relevant and very helpful to this issue, but I realize now that without the right mindset, they’re hollow. No amount of planning, preparation, or presentation is going to justify the time and effort involved in cooking for one unless you feel like you’re worth it.
For me, there’s one simple trick that gets me in the right frame of mind every time. When I get ready to cook my meals for the week, I pretend – just for a few moments – that I’m getting ready to feed a friend for the week. I imagine my best friend is staying with me for the next five days, and I’m preparing her food in advance. It’s incredibly easy to get excited about scrubbing potatoes when envisioning the fun that I’ll have serving a warm meal of roasted veggies marinated in olive oil and sprinkled with rosemary to my dearest friend in the world.
Then, when I’m already smiling at the thought, I just remind myself that, oh yeah – that friend is me. And I am going to feel delighted when I come home to a home-cooked meal made especially for my tired, hungry, hard-working self.
But… Isn’t that a bit much? A bit silly? A bit too self-absorbed?
If this idea makes you feel awkward or self-conscious, or makes you worried that you’ll turn into a total self-absorbed jerk if you show yourself that much care and love, consider this:
The Buddha said, “You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you, and you will not find that person anywhere. You, as much as anyone else in the universe, deserve your love and affection.” The least you can do is serve yourself a meal prepared with genuine love.
And listen, if cooking really isn’t your thing, then spend some time planning out your shopping list and making sure you buy ready-made meals that you like and will nourish your body. And for heaven’s sake, once it comes out of the microwave, put your food on a plate and make it pretty. You’re worth the fuss of washing a plate, aren’t you?
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