What We Eat When We Eat Alone - Deborah Madison [54]
The practical theme of having one big thing to eat from runs through many solutions to meal after meal alone. A pot of soup. Chase’s Universal. A ton of Bolognese sauce. Then there’s the “pot of something starchy” approach to solo eating, and usually it’s rice. Indeed, the very blandness of rice makes it a gift. Of course it’s better cooked fresh each time, but even leftovers can prove useful. My mother vigorously touts the virtues of having a pot of rice on hand at all times. “Cook two or more cups of brown (or white) rice,” she suggests, “keep it covered in a bowl in the refrigerator and use it for the next two or three days. It’s a wonderful backup, whether you want it with milk for breakfast, rice pudding for dessert, or as something to go with a Chinese recipe.”
One of her favorite things to do with her waiting bowl of rice is to fry it up with tofu and green pepper, spinach, and perhaps a beaten egg to bind it all together. “And a dash of soy sauce,” she adds. (Curiously, this is what I used to eat in college day after day, but it’s nothing we ever ate as a family.)
The idea of using rice to make a little rice pudding is a good one. Heat it with milk; add raisins, brown sugar, or maple syrup, and cinnamon; and you have a sweet, comforting dish that’s reasonably good for you. Add a bit of butter, a glug of cream, or a dollop of crème fraîche and it’s even better. A more exotic rice pudding can be made from basmati rice laced with honey, pistachios, and saffron. That’s dinner and dessert in one. And leftover rice can also be turned into a soothing sort of congee, a savory rice porridge with bits of vegetables, tofu, or meat.
Among some of the youngish single people who really do like to cook for themselves is Maureen Callahan of the bulgur and shrimp salad. “I have a lot of single friends who hate to cook for just themselves,” she says, “but not me. I love to cook and it doesn’t matter if I’m the only audience. I find it relaxing to chop fresh vegetables and hang out in my kitchen, concocting a special meal for myself. I turn on some good music and I’m in heaven.”
One of the things that does matter to Maureen are the ingredients she cooks with. “My sister just about passed out at the total for my grocery bill when she went shopping with me, but I splurge on good ingredients. Cooking is fun when you’re trying a new olive oil or vinegar, a new variety of heirloom vegetables. It’s a voyage of discovery.”
Some young people have told us that they prefer to eat out with their friends rather than cook, and Maureen did too when she lived in Boston. Looking back on her days in graduate school, she recalls, “An older friend of mine cooked at home all the time and was always turning down dinner invitations. Back then, I wanted to try all the hip new places and explore all the ethnic restaurants, so I didn’t understand. Sarah was kind of a curmudgeon about dining out. If the restaurant wasn’t exceptional, she didn’t want to waste her money. And now I’m starting to feel the same way. I can cook a piece of fish a whole lot better than a lot of restaurants. Plus, I know exactly what’s going into my meal in regards to nutrition and the environment. I like knowing where my food comes from and whom I’m supporting. I guess as I get older there’s a lot more wrapped up in my cooking decisions.”
A Santa Fe cook echoed Maureen’s thoughts when she said that she finds restaurants are more and more disappointing. “I would rather prepare food myself, even if it does mean eating alone,” says Marilyn Ferrell, who owned a Mexican restaurant for twenty years before retiring to Santa Fe. “I have been known to have my freshly made guacamole with organic blue-sesame corn chips and a drink, and that’s dinner a couple of times a week,” she confesses. “And since an avocado is never the same after it’s opened and I must eat the whole thing, it leaves