Thoughts on Cooking for One - A Stream of Consciousness Bit of Writing

The way some people appear to cook by the way their food blogs read amazes me sometimes. Maybe amaze isn't the right word? Befuddle might be better. Or even bemuse or astound.

Who are these people with these infinite budgets, superior cameras, and affluent amounts of time on their hands? Reading something like, "Oh, I found a lovely bit of rhubarb today, so I whipped up this tagine of wild duck with rhubarb compote. So simple!" which is then followed by a recipe that is double the length of the actual introduction.

It is, as they say, to laugh. Really? You actually had the time to throw that together in the middle of the day for that perfect outside lighting? Ass. But that's jealousy talking.

My cooking is for the most part dictated by how tired (or lazy) I am and if impending deadlines are threatening my pay check or grades. How do these people do it? If it's your job, I understand, but between the full time job, grad school and three part time jobs I pull, fancy-shmancy food has as little chance of happening as aurora borealis spontaneously lighting up my living room.

Given, I'll treat myself once in a while. I'll make a coq au vin or braise some lamb shanks and serve them with a fresh salad. For company, I'll make a delicious curried soup with manchego palmiers served with a tame Shiraz. My desserts are usually never anything to scoff about. Most of this you readers never see though because, damn it, my camera sucks and can't do pictures inside with bad yellow light when it's dark outside. Plus, this isn't a recipe food blog. Resulting pictures I do attempt to take are more I vomit than eye candy, and regardless how well I praise the recipe people won't try it unless a purty picture is there to seduce you. So as such, most recipes rarely make it here.

But photography is a bit off topic right now.

For the most part, I cook alone. For one. Well, actually, I cook for three. It's just me at different times. Dinner tonight, lunch tomorrow, and then dinner tomorrow night because I'll probably be too tired to cook after classes or the gym. As such it's simple food that I doubt would intrigue most of you. Partially because much of it is adapted to my own quirky tastes.

I do not have the time for complicated meals using hoity-toity ingredients like fresh parsley (yeah, I know what you're thinking, shut it, the dried-n-shredded stuff is fine). My meals must meet certain criteria in my kitchen: It must be fast. It must be tasty. It must be nutritious. It must be cheap.

The fourth part of my Mantra for Mastication is particularly important to me. My budget every week for food is about $25 (it could be more but I'm saving), which at the Farmer's Market can easily get you enough produce, rice, and fresh eggs to last you a week or more for one person. Meat is a luxury so tofu makes many appearances in my food and I keep a bag of frozen chicken tenders around because they're easy to portion. Thus my diet is mostly vegetarian, not out of compassion for any of God's tasty creatures but out of my near-hermit like frugality. I do keep a ready supply of bacon because sometimes the air around the stove just seems to plead to be aroused with it's delicious, salty smell.

I find that Asian food is by and far the quickest and easiest of cuisines dictated by economic hardship. Jennifer 8. Lee noted in her book The Fortune Cookie Chronicles that traditional Chinese food is a fairly simple vegetarian fare. A lot of stir-fry and a lot of soups, all for the most part consisting of a few vegetables and one or two spices to flavor the oil or broth. This practical style of cooking has made me a near expert at Asian cooking techniques, or so I boast.

The wok is by far the best kitchen investment I ever made. It's used at least twice a week which equals four dinners and two lunches for me. It's perfect for boiling, stewing, soups, braising, deep frying, and steaming. Let's see George Foreman beat that.

It is my opinion that any intelligent boy on a budget (or girl, if you are so inclined) should immediately invest in taking time to explore the wok. However, some days even I dread the chopping, cleaning, heat, and so on that preparing food seems to employ.

One of my favorite things to make is what I call my cracker stacks. I open a can of tuna and squeeze in a bit of mayo and mix, chop a few slices off a block of orange cheddar, and break out the saltines. I then place a piece of cheese on the saltine and top it with a dollop of the tuna. If I feel crazy, I add a bit of curry powder to the tuna. Freaking delicious. I have many happy memories of locking myself into my closet sized dorm room with my homework and munching these with a tall glass of milk. It's something I still make today.

Still, I think I eat very well. My leftovers are nothing to scoff at. My last sammich consisted of last night's antelope, heirloom tomato, homemade mayo, and crisp arugula from a friend's garden on slices of stale sourdough that I toasted. No complaints here. My leftovers are 'effing bistro, yo.

I've learned that one can be a foodie and eat well on a budget, it just takes time to find your step. Like walking, you have to learn to take a step before you can walk. Soon enough you're running to the stall that has the fresh Chinese long beans for a dollar, then zoom! off to the grocer with the cheap chicken feet to make stock with, then ping! a short drive to your friend's place who has the fruit trees producing way too much for them to eat alone.

After this its a sort of fun bit of amusement to see what sorts of alchemy I can whip up over the wok. Plums with the last star anise and a splash of the red wine a friend brought over that we didn't finish last night? Stir fry that up into a tasty dessert, my friend.

Eating alone has become more of a journey of self-discovery, I find it as time to reflect on my day, my (blossoming?) career(s), what I've learned, the people I've talked too, and what I want from life.

Any other simple meals you make alone in the kitchen for one or thoughts on cooking for one or dining alone? Leave them in the comments as I would love to hear them!

This little incohesive rant was inspired by the essay collection, Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant. Fabulous read and, like, $6 used on Amazon.