THE DATING LAME

Okay, so this post isn’t so much about dating as it is about being single—but one of the joys of being single, mind you.

First off, to give you some context, I adore food. I went to cooking school, and, as a freelance writer, have the good fortune to occasionally write about food and dining for a living. There’s something about cooking that’s relaxing and cathartic to me—maybe it’s the chopping, or concentrating on the smells and the noises that relaxes me, no matter what else is going on in my life. Whatever it is, I love it.

So, this leads me to the meat of my post, so to speak. In my apartment building, there’s an area at the top of the stairs where people often leave books or magazines for others to take if they so please. The other day I spotted a book called Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone. Being a food junkie and a single girl who lives alone, I just had to pick it up, and started reading it yesterday.

The book is a collection of essays and articles; the very first one, by Laurie Colwin shares the same title as the book. In it, Colwin makes an observation that made me smile: “Cooking for oneself reveals man at his weirdest. People lie when you ask them what they eat when they are alone. A salad, they’ll tell you. But when you persist, they confess to peanut butter and bacon sandwiches deep fried and eaten with hot sauce, or spaghetti with butter and grape jam.” So true.

Another of the essays, which I remember reading in the New York Times a few years ago, is by the fabulous Amanda Hesser. In “Single Meals,” she takes the concept of eating alone a step further by writing about the meals she made when her soon-to-be-husband was out of town. Usually, they were quite simple and soothing—and designed to satisfy whatever craving she was having at the time.

If you ask me, this is one of the greatest joys of being single: being able to indulge yourself, with food or otherwise, at the drop of a hat, no matter how odd your cravings may sound to other people. I do really love cooking for someone else, and will typically make more elaborate meals when I’m dating someone (after all, they say a man’s heart is through his stomach). But there’s something so gratifying about being able to make and enjoy your own peculiar little creations that other people might find crazy.

Much like Hesser, I’ve had a hankering for eggs lately: I’ve been scrambling them with arugula, lemon, a dollop of plain yogurt and a little Parmesan cheese, then spooning the mixture over whole wheat toast, which I find to be the most delicious lunch. I’ll put a sunny side-up egg on top of a bowl of pasta with whatever veggies or greens are lying around, or will sautee onions and tomato with chickpeas an a big old dash of curry powder and garam masala, then put a fried egg on top to quickly quelch a hankering for Indian.

I’m also a big breakfast eater, and usually it’s oatmeal made on the stovetop with lots of cinnamon and a drizzle of honey. Unlike a lot of people, I wake up ravenous, but I love when the oatmeal’s had a little time to cool and get all caramelized and sweet. So I’ll eat half of it to end my hunger, leaving half in the pan, then come back a few minutes later to eat the yummy, gooey rest with an even bigger drizzle of honey. Weird? Maybe. But it’s my “secret single behavior,” as I believe Carrie put it in one episode of Sex and the City.

Anyway, the book got me thinking about how I need to relish more in the freedom that comes along with being single—even if it’s something as small as cooking whatever you want, whenever you want. It can really be a blessing. The teensy, seemingly insignificant things that you do to make yourself happy are all your own—although now you know about a few of mine.

I have to go eat the second half of my oatmeal now. Bon appetit.