Table For One

I pretty much cook for one purpose: to share it with others. Of course the added bonus is that food is freaking awesome, but really it's mostly so I can share share that goodness with my friends. Even when it's just Grant, who I cook for almost every night, I still get so much satisfaction knowing that my meal made him happy.

This has made me realize that although cooking is my favorite thing to do when I come home each day, I really despise cooking for just myself. First, when it is Grant and me, I can totally get myself out of the clean-up. I mean, I cooked right? That doesn't work when you are alone. Second, I like to see the happy and satisfied faces sitting around my table while they enjoy my food. When it is just me, there is no one to look at but myself. I mean, I have tried eating in front of the mirror and having a dialogue with myself but it inevitably goes something like this:

Real me: Do you like it?
Mirror me: Oh yeah. This is so good. Is there fresh mint in this?
Real me: Yeah there is. I really thought it would complement the lamb. I'm glad you like them.
Mirror me: Boy, do I ever.
Real me: Thanks.
Mirror me: Sure thing. Hey, you should really do something with our hair. Also that shirt you're wearing makes us look like you ate about 40 of those lamb meatballs.
Real me: Huh?
Mirror me: I'm just saying.

When I'm by myself I'm usually just a slave to whatever's in the pantry and/or freezer. This always ends up being being random and possesses a very "college" vibe. "Well, a tuna sandwich, a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and some frozen corn it is then!"

Sad, I know, but the other day I found myself in this very predicament. Grant was gone for the evening at band practice and I was home to fend for myself. It still amazes me that my ability to be fancy is basically disabled when I am left to cook a meal for myself. It's as though it's the first time I've ever seen a stove and I end up crawling into the fetal position in the corner, with a half-eaten can of tuna under one arm and a jar of mayo in the other, crying, "I don't get it, I don't get it..."

This particular evening, I was slowly meandering around the grocery store, already exhausted from the inevitable mess that I was going to make after preparing my meal for one. And I can do all the arguing I want with Mirror Me, but that lazy bitch just refuses to pick up a sponge!

I knew I had it in me to figure it out though. My plan: fruit salad. Fruit is self-contained and requires no cooking or sauce (I'm not saying that a sweet dressing made with mint, syrup or brown sugar or something would not be fantastic but remember we're minimizing dishes). This particular night I went for simplicity and chose only bananas and strawberries for my salad. I added toasted pecans and a little drizzle of honey to the sliced fruit. It was simple and wonderful as any good salad should be, and clean-up practically took care of itself. Also, Mirror Me loved what that choice did for her waist line.