When I worked at the spice shop, one of the biggest complaints I heard from folks was that they were “only one person” and as only one person it was extra sad to make food for only themselves.
When I worked for restaurants, I was taught that you should never say, “Just one,” when talking to someone who was dining in for the evening, not to them and not to the host to whom you were passing off the guidance of the patron.
Being from a big family, learning to cook for only two people was actually a little difficult. When I was anticipating transitioning to making dinner for only myself, I was a little daunted. Some of it was the stigma inherent in the first two examples. Some of it was knowing that I was going to be eating those meals alone, that all the leftovers were going to be a sign that I was no longer coupled and there was no one around to help me enjoy the fruits of my labor.
There was (and probably continues to be, people are just saying it less) a huge trend of women throwing together the most random items, forging in their cabinets and fridge for things that simply tickle their fancy….but also require no work. They called it “girl dinner” and showed off their disjointed meals of “freedom” with pride. “Look what I fed myself when no one was around to require anything from me!!” they would tout. I totally fell into this trend. So proud of my pickles, almonds, and leftover pizza slices or some such nonesense.
Then Thanksgiving came.
I was going to be spending it alone for the first time in my whole entire life. I was *panicked* and wildly depressed at the idea of making a “whole dinner” just for myself. …But, you see, I LOVE making Thanksgiving dinner. It is my favorite meal to make in the whole year. It is a challenge. It is a feast. It is a feat of timing and attentiveness. In other words, it’s a flex.
Anyway, I heard myself think how depressed I was at the idea of making a whole Thanksgiving meal for “just me” and I realized that was a horrible thing to think. Again, I LOVE making Thanksgiving dinner so to not make it solely because I would be the only attendee would only be robbing joy from me…..on two accounts. Because not only would I not get the joy of creating a beautiful meal (even if only for myself) but I also would not have that beautiful meal to enjoy to celebrating the day.
Why would I allow myself to do that? Did I not love myself enough to put in the effort of preparing a meal, of feeding myself?
So I did it. I made a great (if a little too salty) meal. It was a modification of my standard Thanksgiving: Turkey roulette (filled with the stuffing), gravy, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole.
Afterwards, I realized that feeding myself was a practical act of love I could extend to myself. I could choose to invest the time to select what I was going to eat, purchase the ingredients, and create the dish (preferrably by mostly from scratch) in an act of love that I could see and feel. The difference was so vital. *I* was worth the time and the effort. *I* was worth loving.
Making this change in mindset has helped me to feel safer in my body and mind because I know my value on a practical level. I have lost weight because I get to decide all the things that are going into my food. I have saved money, both in lunches for the next day as well as the making of the original meal. And, you know what? I am also putting all that amazing knowledge I have gain working in spice shops, coffee shops, and restaurants of all sizes to good use, to use for my own betterment.
I recommend it. Start small. Meet yourself *where you are* skill level-wise. Know that you are worth the time and energy it takes to create the food you will nourish your very cells with. Know that you are loved to you very core. Keep growing in your ability to do the best by you. And, hey, maybe someday there will be more people at your table.
Chew on it. Let me know what you think.
-A
Eating My Way Through It 