A Single Girl's Refrigerator

The other day I opened the refrigerator and the stench about knocked me over. Good God, I thought, What crawled in here and died?!? It was just a head of broccoli waaaaay in the back. I can't say how many weeks it had been in there nor can I tell you what month or for what occassion it was purchased. I'm single. I don't cook. What in the name of all that is holy, was broccoli doing in my refrigerator? But then there was the left over Chinese and a few other take home cartons that hadn't been touched. The stench shouldn't have been a surprise.

In the past couple years, I eat the way I understand the Europeans eat. Their big meal is at midday. Typically I'll eat a huge lunch and in the evening have soup or cheese and crackers or even just a bowl of cereal. Red wine is usually a staple during those evening repasts as well. Since I've adopted that habit I feel better and have lost weight without trying. It works for me.

With that said, what in the hell is brocolli doing in my refrigerator? It must have been one of those inspired moments when I was going to eat healthy. You know, steam up some broccoli with a bit of garlic in the evening instead of the cheese and crackers. Or I was going to cook for someone and couldn't decide what to serve and just bought everything. Then there was the bag of salad that must have come from the same inspiration that was blown up like a balloon from the gasses of the decomposing greens. Hmmm. Compost in the vegetable drawer.... We won't even talk about the apples that had shriveled to a third their original size.

A couple times this week, one of my young, single neighbors called me to ask what was for dinner. What ever gave this young man the impression that I cooked on a regular basis? I cooked for him and some other guests on Memorial Day weekend. I made ribs. They were good but nothing stellar. This is a hungry young man. He'd eat anything. Probably even the brocolli and the decomposing salad. His momma is in Florida. I suggest if he wants something to eat, he needs to go visit her.

There was a time when I was a good cook but the single life doesn't encourage cooking, so I'm not certain where my skills are at this point. Genetically, I'm predisposed to cooking comfort food for people. I'm not sure when or how I lost this skill or desire. It's one that I miss somewhat. I think that I know too many people who aren't as casual about it and I've lost confidence. I have friends that set a beautiful table and the food is presented elegantly. As I said, comfort food is my game. I used to cook it with love and passion, throw it on the table with some plates and silverware and tell folks to dig in. Now I feel like it's not good enough because I'm not savvy about the presentation. I hate Martha Stewart.