Thoughts from the Widow’s Lott--I Cannot Find the Joy in Cooking for One

A corndog and boxed scalloped potatoes with a side of ketchup are all that I can call my cuisine, not only for this evening, but rather for every evening. Sure, the colors and textures change, but quick and easy remain the common spice. At one season in my life, I baked bread and cookies. From scratch I made chicken noodle soup with dumplings. I also dipped chocolates, bottled fruit, preserved home grown vegetables, and perfected an array of sweetbreads, cookies, candies, and deserts.
I loved everything about the kitchen and cooking. One fallacy my mind baked up was that a delicious smelling home was a loving home. My mind quickly changed when toddlers and children were screaming, fighting, and even the smells from the kitchen could not convey a feeling of love.

As the days of my life passed and I moved into a less demanding season, my sweet tooth for easy to bake cookies and candies changed, to a medium-rare steak, fresh shrimp, cheese-cake, and atmosphere. I began to delight in the service of another human being rather than to try and wrestle a dish rag and handy mini vac to clean up after the meal. I relished being waited on rather than being the waiter. I enjoyed the various cuisines available to the paying customer.

After numerous potato salads, creative casseroles, amazing Jell-o salads, and menu planning that would confuse a professional chef; I am now carelessly eating processed and frozen foods. Micro-waving is now my preferred method of cooking and eating out of the original container is my norm. In fact, I learned if you eat out of the original container with a plastic fork clean up is as easy as the closest garbage can.

I find grocery shopping for myself confusing. My first shopping trip, as a widow, was an academic intangible enigma. It was puzzling, because I realized I did not know what I wanted to eat. I did not know how to think in small proportions rather than the most meal for a buck. I aimlessly wandered up and down the aisles. Confusion and hesitation at every usual stop along the well traveled super market route. I stood in front of the green olives. Did I even like green olives, or was it just a habit to keep them on hand for the love of my life?

As I stood in front of the array of brightly boxed cereals, I realized the last time I bought cereal for me I was more interested in the toy inside the box.

I finally left the store with a couple of food items, cleaning products and a confused mind.