On (not) cooking for one

I forget to eat when I'm alone. Like right now, I'm sitting with my Bosnian/Croatian dictionary and language texts spread out all over the floor, studying vocab and padeži (cases), a cup of half-consumed and now undrinkable coffee and an orange peel at my side, and I'm wondering why all of the sudden my stomach is acting insane and I feel faint? It's been 4 hours since the orange, and I'm realizing I accidentally missed that whole breakfast and lunch memo.

Please bear with me for a minute or two of pure belly-aching (pardon the pun) :). The thought of going into the kitchen right now and preparing food makes me bored. I absolutely adore cooking--big groups of guests and the happy chaos of chopping and sauteeing and dish-washing is ideal and one of my greatest pleasures, but how anticlimactic to do so for an audience of one? Reminds me of a quote I once heard, and I'm not sure who said this, "I'd rather dine once than eat forever." True, so true!

When Kat was here--and we both love to cook--there was such joy in going to the markets and picking out our vegetables and cutting and grating and happily chatting, and finally enjoying our meal together over a glass of wine. Community is so important in mealtimes--being on my own in a foreign country has taught me that. There are so many benefits to having my own place for which I am very thankful, but the eating part of it doesn't make the pros list.

Now that Kat's gone it seems I will revert back to my pre-Kat diet of lots of cereal, yogurt, and tuna fish. Maybe I'll add some pickles to the tuna if I get really inspired!