Self Serving

It didn’t take long for the luxury of not having to figure out 'what's for dinner?’ wore off. Maybe because the core of who I am depended on it.

When I first entered my era of life without kids at home, I found myself enjoying the new found freedom of not having to worry about feeding other people. In an almost luxurious fashion, I relished in activities like eating cereal in bed, enjoying take out on the sofa (or in bed) while binging whatever current series sparked my fancy, or making a last minute decision to pull up to one of my favorite neighborhood restaurants like Junes with a book or to meet a friend.

There was something tangibly expansive and visceral about this new block of time that was compounded by the elimination of one of the most stress-induced sentences of any parent or partner's life: ‘What’s for dinner?’

For whatever reason, regardless of experience in the kitchen, if it was going out or picking up take out or just knowing what we liked, it became harder and harder to solve the question on any given night and even more stressful to get it all on the table at a reasonable hour. It was my modern day, a woman leaves the cave to find food so we can survive, kind of situation that I can only now find humor in.

It probably didn’t help that I am what I refer to as a ‘psycho - glycemic’ and was usually running on fumes most days of the week.

Except on Sundays. Sundays had a different air to them. Sundays were the one day a week we had nothing going on. No school. No sports. No work. No long run. No chores.

It was sometime during the time my babies had reached their middle school/high school years that I started what became known to us as ‘Family Dinner’; a Sunday night gathering where I would invite a few friends from my life, people who were visiting town, the kids friends, friends of friends, a lover of mine unbeknownst to anyone else at the table, you name it; a casually curated group that would come together and join my children and I at our table for a home cooked meal, family style.

What we experienced over the years, the conversations, the people, the food, were quite literally, life changing. I have the fondest memories of sitting center on the bench that was pushed up to our table, with my kids at each head, and 4-8 more people gathered around in chairs, talking about art, politics, culture, religion, music - you name it- expanding our perspectives, learning about others and the world around us while we ate. It was during these years that my children began to form opinions, express them and even experience civil discourse.

I believe our Sunday Night Family Dinners were some one the most educational, informative and influential experiences my kids (and I) had under our roof during my tenure as a mother.

AND the most heart warming, soul expanding, joyful ones.

They witnessed and participated first hand in the feelings of gratitude and goodness that come with serving others, the pleasure of seeing someone enjoy something that was made for them and the power that a table of packed people coming together to ‘break bread’ can have on a person.

My gosh, I miss(ed) those days. It didn’t take long for the luxury of not having to figure out ‘what’s for dinner?’ wore off.

Maybe because it brings back memories of motherhood. Maybe because I grew up with a Mother who loved to cook and was feeling nostalgic over her loss. Maybe because I had a father who made me stay home on the weekends to pickle and jar and make jam with what we grew out of the garden. Maybe because I don’t like how my body feels after eating out too much. Maybe because I simply love cooking.

Maybe because the core of who I am depended on it.

Whatever the reason, I figured out how to cook for one. Which was not hard for me. Admittedly, I have a sense of pride about it; you should see my face when I request a 4oz cut of Halibut at the store.

I’m glad I had the experience of ‘not having’ to cook for others because it’s allowed for me to return to the kitchen, but with a deep knowing, it serves me.

It’s like a direct line to de-stress myself and feel good. (wait, what?)

The act itself quiets my mind the same way running does. Following a recipe provides a sense of direction and focus to my brain that otherwise doesn’t happen. It has taught me to slow down, prepare ahead of time, read, read again, improvise, fuck up, fix things, and still complete the process.

I also experience a sense of gratitude and acknowledge the care I am giving to myself which feels unexpectedly loving.

Sunday nights aren’t the same around here, but they aren’t so different either. I spend the day cooking, but it’s usually for myself or my boyfriend and I. After an early supper he leaves for a few hours and I find myself back at my dining table or up at the counter quietly slicing, measuring, prepping and preparing things I can serve myself for the week ahead.

It’s one of the closest feelings to ‘home’ I know.

Most people share with me that they don’t have time to cook for themselves; don’t know how to cook for one; think it’s less expensive to eat out; and/or experience most of the food going bad or to waste.

Not only do I get it, but I’ve been there. So with that in mind, I thought I’d share a few of my self serving hacks.

You know, incase you feel like self serving ;)

1. Overnight oats. I can’t take credit for the recipes! You can find them here at Love and Lemons. fyi; I use Ripple milk because I’m trying to increase my protein. pictured below are the PB& J and Chocolate Banana Bread (perfect place to smash your close to rotting banana’s)

P.S. I’m obsessed with using my Bonne Maman Jam Jars (true story; I’ve bought and given away more mason jars over the years that I decided I was not allowed to buy more. I lost my privileges. You have no idea THE ABSOLUTE EXCITEMENT I experience every few weeks when I empty a jar, not throw it away AND reuse it for my oats. Plus they are so eff’ing cute. I can’t hardly stand it.

2. Freezing spinach for smoothies - I think we can all relate to buying a large tub or bag of spinach to use for smoothies only to find it wilted and stinky 1/3 of the way through, having to toss it. Now I pull 2/3 out, add it to a gallon size baggie and store it in the freezer.

When I showed and told my son he literally said the same thing I typed above about waste. Who knows, maybe its genetic and you already figured this out 😂

3. Portions ….figuring out what amount was right for me and what I was willing to work with the next few days ie adding to eggs, salads or simply reheating was simply an act of trial and error.

4. Chimichurri. Not only to I love the task of making it, I LOVE IT on most anything. I prefer it roughly chopped and with a good kick of vinegar and garlic. It’s really good for your gut and can last up to a week unrefrigerated. Except at my place… 2-3 days max.

   The top left image is THE chimichurri/ top right is Beet Carpaccio, bottom left is a quinoa bowl I made with kale, soft boiled eggs, sweet potato & chimichurri / bottom right is grilled NY Strip, chimichurri and vegetable tian.