i have never learned to make a proper omelette. i’m too impatient. i cook them too fast. they get too brown, stick to the pan and inevitably end up as a scramble. sounds like a bit of a metaphor for my life sometimes . . . hrmmm . . . so my imperfect — yet completely delicious — excuse for an omelette (egg whites, baby portabellas, sweet onion, white cheddar and Sriracha, thank you very much) is what you’re looking at here.
as i made it tonight, i thought about how this is one of the last few single girl suppers i have before Spy comes home. after this, there are 3 more, to be exact. at least one of those will be spent out — Friday, catching up with a dear girlfriend who’s coming to visit for the Lloyd Cole show (!!). so, technically, 2. and with this realization, i was happy and incredibly sad all at the same time.
for about 10 days now, dinner has been a complete afterthought. Miss Girl’s cool with her standard kid-food repertoire of noodles (aka Kraft Mac ‘n’ Cheese), frozen peas, chicken nuggets, hot dogs, ham and rice. god, France should be fun with this. so for me, anything goes. that means a lot of cleaning out the leftovers i stash in the freezer, crackers and cheese nights and generally nibbling more than ever cooking an actual meal. and i absolutely freaking love it. my main meals in the past 10 days, tonight’s eggs and Sunday’s steak stir-fry, were basically attempts to eat more protein, while at the same time using up the veggies that are rapidly going downhill in the fridge, since i haven’t bought or cooked hardly any since he left.
on one hand, it’s utterly glorious. on the other hand it’s kind of sad. i think i was way better at preparing real meals for myself on the regular when i actually was single. i remember back then, i wished i had someone else to cook for. now, i long for these respites when i don’t. the grass is always greener, right? i definitely couldn’t live like this forever, but i plan on fully enjoying the final few suppertimes like this over the next couple days. the freedom of content and timing are so absolutely priceless. the single girl’s supper might just be a soul-saver on any given night, even after Spy gets home.
ode to the single girl’s supper
the most perfect supper, cheese and wine —
nobody cares if it’s not served ’til nine.
breakfast for supper? this idea has legs.
everything in the fridge can be thrown in your eggs.
a few bites of kid food? okay by me.
wasn’t that a diet — eat like you’re three?
handful of almonds, some jerky and beer?
we sure won’t judge, that’s gourmet around here.
peanut butter and jelly? no need to have fits.
grab a good spoon. put that shit on a Ritz.
the single girl supper takes many weird shapes.
it might even consist of nothing but vapes.
the single girl’s supper deserves some respect.
whether you’ve found your soulmate, or haven’t one yet . . .
treasure these random food moments, my cutie.
for the single girl’s supper is an art form of beauty.