Cooking for One
Mon., September 30, 01:41 PM
Once upon a time, I was a cook. Not to say that I cooked professionally, or even produced gourmet masterpieces as a hobby. But I produced three meals a day most days – Husband cooked once in a while – and they weren’t just the same thing every day. I created nutritious dishes that the kids would eat – on a restricted budget – and just incidentally reared children who were imaginative eaters. I might hear “I don’t like that,” but they always tasted it first. And because they weren’t picky, I could take them anywhere.
About three years ago, my oven died – again. In the past, Husband had always fixed it for me, but (1) I don’t think he can fix stuff any more and (2) the stove was thirty years old and maybe I deserved a new one. So I went out and bought what I had wanted since the first time I saw one – a stove with a flat cook-top. Maybe it would need special care, but I didn’t mind. At least I would never again have to clean under the burners after Husband cooked.
Y’know what? I should have done it years ago. I have carefully demonstrated to Husband how to use the new stove, but he’s afraid of it. He doesn’t fry eggs any more, or leave saucepans with leftover coffee, or… If only I had known.
I love the stove, but I don’t use it much. Mostly I’m just cooking for myself. When you’re cooking for one, it’s much easier to use the microwave, the toaster oven, the little grill. (Thank you, George Foreman.) I’m reminded of a friend, newly widowed, who asked my mother, “how do you cook for one?” Mother’s answer was wholly inappropriate, though it worked for her: “Cook for two, then freeze half.”
U.D. has not only has special dietary needs, she is also a fanatical vegetarian. Husband seems to prefer junk - Twinkies, Ring-Dings, Little Debbies – whatever. Maybe the preservatives are keeping him alive. In any case, he has his own schedule, and he knows that I’m not going to get up at 10 p.m. to cook just for him.
Even for foods he used to like, he doesn’t eat a whole serving at one time. Occasionally I’ll make him a nice (home-made) burger. He eats half and saves the rest for tomorrow. I’ve had meat loaf – his favorite – go green in the refrigerator. So I’ve learned not to prepare too much of anything at one time. For myself, it’s a chop or a small steak or a piece of chicken. Maybe a small salad – but if I buy a head of lettuce or even a bag of mixed salad, it will rot before I can use it up.
Recently I made chicken soup. I froze most of it, because Husband didn’t want any. I keep reminding myself that my mother did it every week because my father liked it. After watching her struggle, I knew enough to devise a few shortcuts. (For example, scissors work better than a knife on chicken.) The hardest thing is to remember that we don’t keep the same staples in the house, because they spoil. I remembered to buy celery and onions, but I forgot the carrots.
One of the nicest things about this stove is that I don’t have to keep lifting the heavy soup pot. When I have to move it because the soup is boiling too much, I just slide it to a burner that isn’t so hot. I’ve never been good with lifting stuff off the stove because I’m too short.
I actually cooked twice this weekend. I made meat loaf and took most of it to M.D.’s house, where she and Son-in-Law can enjoy it. We kept a little one here, and I will eat most of it over the next week. Then I made eggplant because it may be the last time I’ll get a good buy on it this season. Perhaps U.D. will help me eat it. If I ate as much as I wanted, my sugar would go up…
A lady I know says she’s turned her stove into a planter. I know just what she means.
