Dinner for oneMonday, November 04, 2013
I don't get much time to myself these days. I'm either at work, surrounded by lawyers; in North Berwick, surrounded by family; or at home, surrounded by Smidgen (greyhounds have a limited concept of personal space). Being with Fin is almost like being alone - after 11 years together, he is so much a part of the fabric of my life that he's more like a very friendly cushion than a separate human being - but sometimes a girl just needs to be alone with herself and her weird habits. Not even the friendliest cushion wants to see you picking the dead skin off your feet.
My personal list of strange solo behaviour mainly revolves around taking otherwise normal activities to an extreme level. If I have the flat to myself for an evening, I'll listen to the same song on repeat twenty times. I won't just watch one episode of Mad Men, I'll watch seven. I'll try on outfits for imaginary social occasions until every item of clothing I own is strewn across the bed and the wardrobe is nothing but an empty wasteland where wire coathangers go to die.
The weirdest thing, though, is the edible portion of the evening. Well, I don't think it's weird, but Fin disagrees. That's why I wait for him to be working late, or out at a support group for people whose spouses compare them to soft furnishings ("Doctor, doctor, my wife thinks I'm a pair of curtains!" "Pull yourself together." BOOM BOOM), before creating my number one guilty pleasure meal.
This top secret dinner-for-one follows the same simple theory as the rest of the evening: why stop at one unhealthy ingredient? Essentially, it consists of a mountain of pasta, slathered in olive oil and covered with a generous handful of grated mature cheddar. On top of - not beside - this steaming mound of carbs and fat sits the crowning glory: a crisp, golden chicken kiev, oozing pre-made garlic butter. To really take the fat-fest to the next level, I like to drizzle the garlicky oils from the baking tray over the whole thing then eat it on the couch, preferably in front of my eighth episode of Mad Men.
As meals go, it's childish, lazy and absolutely terrible for me, but oh, if it isn't delicious. I would feel worse about it if I didn't know that Fin's go-to meal for one was macaroni cheese from a box. Vom.
Does anyone else have a gross meal that they secretly love? Tell me I'm not alone here.
Image from The Knotty Bride. Warning: that link contains adorable puppy pictures. Just so you know.