Next Avenue Logo
Advertisement

Cooking for the Newly Single

In my Bachelor Stint II phase, I've finally found my groove in the kitchen

By Paul Jablow

Maybe she took pity on me. Maybe it was one of the things about me that made her say "yes" when I proposed.

The first time my fiancée looked inside the fridge in my bachelor apartment, it contained only milk for my morning dry cereal, grapefruit juice, beer and frozen Mexican dinners. Soon I was eating normal meals she cooked for us in her apartment.

A man cooking dinner in his apartment. Next Avenue, cooking newly single
On the rare occasions I tried cooking, I quickly became either a sanitation problem or a fire hazard.  |  Credit: Getty

Not that I had been starving. I ate out a lot, partly because my weird hours as a beginning newspaper reporter encouraged it. The idea of spending time buying groceries and preparing food was about on the level of learning Sanskrit. On the rare occasions I tried cooking, I quickly became either a sanitation problem or a fire hazard.

Most weekday evenings I fix my own dinner, making one of a small cluster of dishes I have quasi-mastered.

But as we get older, priorities can change. What would not have interested us before can become a vital part of our lives.

So fast forward several decades. We are no longer together. Once again, I live in a bachelor apartment, but now the fridge is packed almost to overload, but no frozen Mexican dinners or other microwave candidates.

Dinner Prep as an Emotional Oasis

Most weekday evenings I fix my own dinner, making one of a small cluster of dishes I have quasi-mastered.

It's an emotional oasis.

My favorite jazz is playing on a boom box. The walls are studded with mementoes of the past with a decided Manhattan theme since that's where I grew up, like the days when my younger legs allowed me to march as a balloon carrier in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. A frozen-in-motion shot of Grand Central Station is a favorite.

But most of all, I am happy.

My girlfriend, a career woman who doesn't like to cook although she's quite capable of it, says she never orders her beloved scallops in a restaurant because my recipe is the best she's ever had. (The key in this case happens to be a dollop of sherry when the little critters start to brown. If you like garlic, dice the cloves instead of using pre-minced from a jar).

All told, for more than 50 of my 82 years I was cooked for: Home, college, the Army, marriage. The two bachelor stints, added together, make up the rest.

So, what happened in the almost-30 years between Bachelor Stint I and Bachelor Stint II? Time changed priorities.

It wasn't apparent early on. As soon as I returned to the single life, I started cooking without thinking about it, much as a horse or other large mammal starts to walk immediately after birth.

Advertisement

Not Just a Guy Thing

One might assume that this sort of cooking epiphany is a guy thing. Perhaps this is true in most cases. But it used to be said of my late Aunt Bernice, a housewife, that "she doesn't cook, she heats." Her husband, Uncle Arthur, and her son, Cousin Michael, survived by putting ketchup on everything.

My recipes? They come pretty much out of my head: Unused manuals with cutesy titles like "Dad's Own Cookbook" gather dust atop the fridge. ( I've never been into re-gifting. Or scrubbing the top of the fridge, for that matter. Cleaning up is no fun but it develops character. I think.)

The bill of fare involves nothing fancy, mostly broiled fish or anything sautéed stovetop. Salads are a must. I don't bake.

The bill of fare involves nothing fancy, mostly broiled fish or anything sautéed stovetop.

I do get advice from other people but it's pretty much random and from other amateurs. I do use some packaged ingredients. Cooking completely from scratch is for the pros. Or if you want to make it a full-fledged hobby, which I don't.

I would never make my own salad dressing, for example, but find that varieties of aged balsamic vinegar usually serve me quite well most days.

Certainly, I have my limitations. To this day I have never mastered the skill of fondling an unripe peach and sensing whether it will turn delicious or mushy. And if you wanted to determine the age of my utensils, you'd have to carbon date them. I don't own a blender.

The amount of advance planning is minimal, although you need to buy an avocado a day early if you want it for salad. 

Creativity in the Kitchen

I work about half time as a freelance writer so this makes me have to be a bit more creative in filling the day than when I was a fully employed journalist.

If you wanted to determine the age of my utensils, you'd have to carbon date them. I don't own a blender.

Cooking for yourself is obviously more economical than ordering takeout or going to a restaurant, but I'd rather dwell on its spiritual and aesthetic aspects.

First, it's a chance to spend a bit of time totally focused on an activity involving sight, sound, smell and touch. There might be occasional telephone interruptions but these have been minimized by the arrival of caller ID, which wasn't available during Bachelor I. The ultimate living in the moment.

I like a glass of wine before dinner, but cooking doesn't work when you're soused, which is probably a good thing.

Unlike, say, yoga, it's an activity where the pace is not being determined by anyone else but by the realities of time and physics. There's room for improvisation but no one to lecture you about the need to move out of your comfort zone.

If you have an outdoor grill or camp out — I check neither box — you can bring nature into the picture as an added ingredient.

And, of course, if you've done it right — maybe even come close — there's a very tangible reward at the end.

Paul Jablow
Paul Jablow is freelancing after spending 40 years a reporter and editor on three newspapers, most recently the Philadelphia Inquirer. Having spent 82 years on the planet with most of his marbles intact, he has been specializing in writing about aging. He lives just west of Philadelphia, in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. Read More
Advertisement
Next Avenue LogoMeeting the needs and unleashing the potential of older Americans through media
©2024 Next AvenuePrivacy PolicyTerms of Use
A nonprofit journalism website produced by:
TPT Logo