Cooking Alone Ain't So Bad
last summer, a guy I was dating –
told me he wanted to make me breakfast. And as I sat watching him handle my favourite pan, my fingers were gripping the counter. What should have been quite a tender, affectionate gesture, was in fact my worst nightmare. He turned around, expecting a loving or grateful glance, and instead what he was faced with was the culinary equivalent of a back seat driver.
“You hate that someone is using your kitchen and that you’re not in control, don’t you?” he said, perceptively.
“Please don’t ruin my cast iron,” was the first thing I could think to say.
Safe to say things didn’t work out.
When I was in my early twenties I was really into tortured musicians, boys who never texted me back and generally toxic relationships that devalued my sense of self. My relationship with food was informed by how I felt about myself – which, back then, was not particularly good. I tricked myself into thinking that the boy in the band would finally like me if I only ate raw salads; that the toxic relationship would magically transform into a sweeping, requited love if I stopped eating butter and carbs.
Years of heartbreak, troubled feelings about food, anxiety-ridden episodes, stints in different countries and all the while living alone (for the most part) has proven that who I am is not defined by the person I lust after or the food that I eat. And that I like myself a whole lot better when I’m not blindly following the whim of romance or trying to cut out essential food groups to make people like me.
The more I cook for myself, the more I discover my taste. Before, I was being guided by external forces. Now? I know that for me, it’s all about the crystalised tang of salt; the fresh pinch of citrus, the peppered velveteen of olive oil and the creamy churn of butter. For others it will be different.
But the joy of cooking alone is that you can put yourself front and centre. Other people’s opinions shouldn’t affect how you cook for yourself.
If you get exasperated cooking for yourself, think of it as a way of exploring all the flavours you didn’t know you loved (or hated). Try new things. Over-salt the water. Add a bit too much chilli. Underseason the chicken. Forget the butter. Pour in too much vinegar. They’re all helping you learn what you like.
I guess that’s what dating is all about. (I should probably take my own advice on that one).
On that note, I’m off on a socially distanced stroll with a stranger.
Here’s to the small steps and the steep learning curves.
Cat x
miso aubergine.
Trust me when I say there is nothing quite like a Sarsfield family barbecue. Now that #bbqszn is in full swing, I am missing the Saturday night cook-outs at my parents house, which inevitably involves about six different types of meat – from butterflied lamb to Korean marinated chicken thighs – a large pot of new potatoes, sharply dressed salads, multiple bottles of the house wine and my mother doing a little bbq boogie.
Alas I don’t have a barbecue, so here’s a little miso surprise I like to cook in the oven and pretend I’m eating it in the heat of my parent’s back garden, guzzling Porto 6 and filming my parents being adorable septuagenarians.
You’ll need one aubergine halved lengthways. Score the flesh diagonally in one way and then the other, so it looks like a criss-cross pattern. In a bowl mix 1 tbsp of white miso paste, 1 tsp sesame oil, a squeeze of ¼ lime, a pinch of red chilli flakes and a generous squeeze of honey. Add 1-2 tbsp of boiling water to loosen the mixture, then whisk.
Place the aubergine halves face down in a baking tray, add the mixture and leave to sit for about an hour. Preheat the oven to 200ºC, turn the aubergines cut side up and baste with the marinade (I use a brush that has a little oil on it because I’m fancy).
Place in the oven and turn the heat down to 150º and roast for about 45 mins, or until the aubergine is tender and almost melting. Keep checking and basting so that the marinade soaks into the flesh. Once cooked, serve on a bed of yoghurt and tahini (1 tbsp of each, plus salt, pepper and lime, whisked) and scatter with chopped spring onions and some toasted nuts.
If you do have a bbq, I’m jealous, and you can just skip the oven method, instead placing it on the bbq and constantly basting. Best to do it before the coals to get too hot and allow the heat to pick up as it cooks.
food stories.
- A Bangladeshi family-owned restaurant burned in the Minneapolis fires, but they still back the protest, via The New York Times
– Ruby Tandoh writing eloquently as ever about the food of care homes, in a piece called Cooking With Care for Vittles.
– Waste not, want not – all the ways not to waste your citrus peels via The New Yorker's Kitchen Notes
a few leftovers.
– Following the miso train, cook up Anna Jones' miso potato salad
– Bon Appétit's got your back on all the summer sides
– Really into Royale (a rotisserie delivery service from Shoreditch resto Leroys)
– The genius of combining potato rostï with a quiche via Telegraph Food
– It's officially niçoise weather
– Dusty Knuckle's sandwiches return (impossible to snap them up though)
– Handle your knife like a pro (unlike me who cuts herself at every slice)
– How about grilling some trout and smashing potatoes via Scribe Winery?
if you like what I'm putting down?
Tell your friends! Tell your family! Tell your lovers!