Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant

edited by Jenni Ferrari-Adler

What a delightful read!  Sweet, bitter, spicy… all the flavors stewing in one pot.  Plus a few dashes of international flavors: Japanese dashi, Thai chili… I have a few favorites: Thanks, but No Thanks by Courtney Eldridge, The Year of Spaghetti by Haruki Murakami, Eggs Over Uneasy by Jonathan Ames, Luxury by Holly Hughes, Instant Noodles by Rattawut Lapcharoensap.

It is interesting how some people view dining alone as the ultimate treat to one self, a luxury, a celebration; while for others it is a pathetic ocassion, an indication of their failure as a social animal.  For me, I am closer to the happy camp, although I seldom indulge in a full set of china and cutlery.  (hey I still am the one to do the dishes!)  I suppose I enjoy eating alone at home, as I can cook dishes I crave for but my husband does not care for.  Such as a humble zaru soba.  A simple sushi roll with whatever I can conjure up in the fridge.   A pasta with sickeningly creamy sauce.  Dishes that always get vetoed whenever I suggest them in the most casual tone (as if that helps sneak them under the radar). 

I do admit that at restaurants it can sometimes feel awkward.   Somehow you emit an air of sadness and mystery, even when you act your best to appear confident and nonchalant.   My favorite dine alone spot is the kaiten sushi place.  Where everybody faces the sushi plates parading in front.  I also like to bring along a book, to give my eyes something to keep busy on while waiting for my dish.