Half an onion — The singular pleasure of cooking alone

I

know that my day is going to be better if I go to my stove and just put on some onions and butter and just start something.

There's something about being able to make time for yourself.

piping hot pan.

A spoonful of butter melts gently across the surface.

Throw in your diced onion and within seconds, the ingredients begin their transformation.

The aromas diffuse.

Suddenly, even if it's a meal just for you, your cooking.

And yes, when you don't have a family to feed or anyone to impress, it's never been easier to source a single meal from the frozen food section of your supermarket, or to open that app on your phone and have a paper bag of dinner at your doorstep within the hour.

But what do we deny ourselves by making those admittedly convenient choices?

The steps that you take to prepare a meal, the fragrances and aromas that come from preparing a meal, it lifts the spirits, it lifts the mood.

That's what I found.

I know, I know.

It's a nice idea.

Had you the time, maybe the skill, the right ingredients, I'm sure you'd do it more often.

And then there's the ratios.

How do I scale this recipe to a single portion? Will it still work? And why do I have to buy a 500-gram bag of this flour when all I need is a spoonful? Then there's the possibility of leftovers.

Will it still be good the next day? Maybe I can freeze it.

But once in the freezer, will it ever see the

light of day? How many times have we put something in the freezer knowing that you're never going to eat it again? LAUGHTER

These questions have answers.

Last time on Every Bite, we looked at the idea of dining alone, setting a table for one.

Catch up if you missed it at ABC Listen.

But what to cook? How to conjure that solo portion? In this episode, help is at hand.

I'm Jonathan Green and this is Every Bite from ABC Radio National.

It's all about food and the places where food, culture, science and history collide.

This week, half an onion.

The singular pleasure of cooking alone.

I

know that my day is going to be better if I go to my stove and just put on some onions and butter and just start something.

There's something about being able to make time for yourself.

piping hot pan.

A spoonful of butter melts gently across the surface.

Throw in your diced onion and within seconds, the ingredients begin their transformation.

The aromas diffuse.

Suddenly, even if it's a meal just for you, your cooking.

And yes, when you don't have a family to feed or anyone to impress, it's never been easier to source a single meal from the frozen food section of your supermarket, or to open that app on your phone and have a paper bag of dinner at your doorstep within the hour.

But what do we deny ourselves by making those admittedly convenient choices?

The steps that you take to prepare a meal, the fragrances and aromas that come from preparing a meal, it lifts the spirits, it lifts the mood.

That's what I found.

I know, I know.

It's a nice idea.

Had you the time, maybe the skill, the right ingredients, I'm sure you'd do it more often.

And then there's the ratios.

How do I scale this recipe to a single portion? Will it still work? And why do I have to buy a 500-gram bag of this flour when all I need is a spoonful? Then there's the possibility of leftovers.

Will it still be good the next day? Maybe I can freeze it.

But once in the freezer, will it ever see the

light of day? How many times have we put something in the freezer knowing that you're never going to eat it again? LAUGHTER

These questions have answers.

Last time on Every Bite, we looked at the idea of dining alone, setting a table for one.

Catch up if you missed it at ABC Listen.

But what to cook? How to conjure that solo portion? In this episode, help is at hand.

I'm Jonathan Green and this is Every Bite from ABC Radio National.

It's all about food and the places where food, culture, science and history collide.

This week, half an onion.

The singular pleasure of cooking alone.