Party of One: an introduction

a newsletter all about cooking for oneself

Six months ago, I moved into a little railroad apartment on a cute little street in Lower Manhattan. When my parents and I toured the place just a month and a half before June 1, my mom remarked at the size of the oven and stove. “Is that going to work for you?” she asked. The realtor chuckled. “No one in New York really cooks that much.” She was preaching to the wrong choir.

I got my first taste of cooking for myself over my spring break of freshman year. My roommate and I decided to stay in the city instead of going home or jetting off to someplace warm. We wanted to get an idea of what it was like to live in New York without having to worry about school. We explored neighborhoods we’d never been to and walked around Central Park without a deadline in mind. The week was wonderful — the only downside was that the dining hall was closed. So we went to Trader Joe’s on 14th Street and stocked up on enough food to last us through the week. Toast and oatmeal were our go-to breakfasts. Obviously pasta was on the list, and as two devout vegetarians (oh, the before times) we couldn’t get enough of plant-based sausages. Yum! It was a fun experiment, but with age I’ve come to appreciate cooking a meal for oneself — a real meal that’s cooked on the stove and not from Trader Joe’s freezer aisle (although I must admit I stock my freezer with their enchiladas each month).

To me, the biggest pitfall of living alone is the cooking. Although it’s nice coming home to a quiet space and preparing whatever I feel like eating that night, grocery shopping stresses me out. Will I finish all this lettuce this week? Do I really need two types of fresh herbs? Ugh, I’m really sick of this pasta shape . Everything either lasts forever or spoils before I make a dent into it — and it might be my own fault. I’ve had a bag of pistachios in my cabinet for six months (I’m running out of ideas). My mom sent me cookies at the start of the school year, and they’re still sitting in my freezer. It took me three months to finish twenty-four muffins, and I just froze a fresh batch of scones that will (hopefully) disappear by March.

The TLDR is that cooking for myself is challenging because I get bored easily. Meal prep is definitely not for me, and every week that I try it out, I’m bored by Wednesday when I have to eat Monday’s burrito bowl leftovers again. I also enjoy the time it takes to make something from scratch, and witnessing ingredients transforming into a meal gives me a thrill like no other.

One time I posted a picture on my Instagram and called it a lazy meal, to which my dear friend Francesca commented, “yeah when i’m lazy i make pasta with squash and not order chipotle.” It stopped me in my tracks. Truly, I’m not tooting my own horn here when I express my surprise. Cooking isn’t therapeutic for everyone? I asked the void. Why wouldn’t one just whip up some tacos? And here, folks, is where I had an epiphany: cooking for myself is my hobby! I really should have known, but to consider something so vital to our ability to LIVE a hobby sounds silly.

claudeata_

A post shared by Claudia (@claudeata_)

I might be extra, I might be a little bit insane, but I am full. And while I can’t wait to host real dinner parties one day, in a house or bigger apartment, hosting myself feels fine for now. This issue of the newsletter is the start of my exploration into cooking for myself — and all the other noteworthy food-related things I come across. Think of it as an extension of @claudeata_.

I knew from the start that I wanted to write only about food, so here it goes. Since food just so happens to be a hobby of mine, what else am I going to do?

I’ll leave you with my favorite Julia Child quote from Mastering the Art of French Cooking:

Certainly one of the most important requirements of learning how to cook is that you learn how to eat. Savor it, analyze it, and discuss it with your companions, and you compare it with other experiences.