Eating Alone

I don't like to eat alone. I never have. Growing up I found the I enjoyed being in the kitchen, especially baking. When I moved out for college, I found that it was too hard to cook for myself. I chose ready-to-heat-then-eat items, returning to the pantry two or three times before I completed a meal. I was depressed and lonely. But that's only part of it.

I do cook for breakfasts, usually oatmeal; once in awhile I will treat myself to a German-fried egg (some of you may know it as 'Toast with an Egg in the middle'). It is one of the few things from my Grandfather's legacy that I care to remember and imitate. I improved the tradition, however, by serving it with ketchup. Breakfast of champions!

For lunch, however, I piecemeal things together. A piece of banana-nut bread (no butter), three tablespoons of yogurt, some fruit. Dairy, fruit, and carbohydrates are staples for my finicky stomach. It never complains about them. On warmer days, I snack on carrots with peanut butter or hummus. On cold days, though it's hard to put things together. Leftovers are not always appealing (for no good reason) and I don't want to cook for every meal...what's a girl to do? And I love cooking, trying new recipes, new foods - but not by myself. Ironic.

Although I love my time alone, eating highlights relationships. Sharing a meal with others is always a wonderful experience and it's just not the same by myself. Mealtimes remind me that I am designed to live in community. I harbor competing characteristics: I deeply value my solitude and I love to cook for my loved ones. I marvel at how complex and unique we humans are.

Give me a call if you want to do lunch.