Single Lady Cooking 101

I will preface this post by saying I am not a creative cook.  I find cooking to be quite a fun hobby; one that I skip out on all too often.  I love food.  I love eating food.  I love looking at food and recipes.  Rarely, though, do I take that passion to the kitchen.  This is a habit that I am currently trying to break for the following reasons. 

  1. A human CANNOT survive on yogurt, granola, nuts, fruit, and cereal.  It’s like, not balanced.  Being in nursing school and working at fucking Whole Foods, for Christ sake, I know what I am supposed to be eating.  Veggies.  Veggies.  More veggies.  Some meat.  Although my yogurt and nuts carry  some protein value, I know I’m not meeting THAT recommended daily allowance. 


2.  Cooking is a way to express and nurture a creativity.  I am left handed.  Left handed people are supposed to be freakin’ artists and musicians and writers (I guess I do that now!) and I generally just sit on my butt and play with my cat as an expressive outlet. 

3.  I WANT to be a good cook.  My mama can look in her pantry, pull out a bunch of nonsense ingredients that mean absolutely nothing to me like it’s straight outta Chopped, and 30 minutes later she will have a product of Mozzarella Tomato and Zucchini pie with a bacon crust and a Black Bean, Corn, and Avocado salad as a side.  Shit’s insane.  When I look in my cabinet, I see a box of 365 Peanut Butter Ball cereal… and that’s dinner.  Party.

4.  I am DETERMINED to prove that although one survives by living paycheck to paycheck, this does NOT mean that one should have to starve or be depleted of essential nutrients.  We gon’ get back on track. 

SO, all that being said, I MADE DINNER TONIGHT.  *Standing ovations, sirens, cheers, “whoop it up’s” and all other forms of ridiculous applause and celebration. 

Here are the ingredients.

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I Cook For Men, Not for Me

Here’s the thing.  I don’t cook for myself.  When you’re single and live alone, a girl will find any excuse to nix cooking off the to-do list.  My excuse is I’m lazy, I love yogurt and granola and cereal and fruit with a passion (Yes, this is how I eat.  It’s embarrassing), and I’d rather be doing other things besides cleaning the fucking kitchen (I will say here that I LOVE cleaning things–I find it therapeutic–but dishes annoy me to no end.  And how does the kitchen get so messy even when you don’t go in there?!  I’ll never understand)


Men bring something out in a woman.  We southern women turn into this Nurture Goddess at the first sign of any masculine attention.  It’s a phenomenon, really.  Or it’s just pheromones/hormones/general lack of sexual activity playing mind/body control.  That’s probably it.  Anyhow, this past weekend I was lucky enough to have a visitor spend a few days with me during my birthday.  The type of visitor that you want to feed well and impress with your Betty Crocker skillz and Good Housekeeping technique.  A male visitor–insert “hubba hubba’s” and cheesy hearts and eggplant emojis*  So I met this guy online.  What better way to spend the first weekend of my 30’s than with a man I’ve never met in my mediocre apartment with two cats, multiple Spotify playlists, and….. other things?!?!?!?!?  I don’t know if there is a better way, honestly.  YOLO.  Listen, ANY man who is willing to travel thousands of miles to spend time with you is deserving of a nice fucking breakfast. “Don’t screw this meal up, Bailey.  You know how your eggs usually turn out.  You’ve GOT this.”  :-/ So anyway, preceding his arrival I made an elaborate (for me) breakfast menu for myself and this special guest. 


Continue reading “I Cook For Men, Not for Me”