I just read a biography of legendary cookbook editor Judith Jones…
Jones was an editor for some of the greatest writers of the past century (Julia Child, Madhur Jaffrey, John Updike, Sylvia Plath), but as Jones grew older, She wrote her own books—first a memoir, then a book called The joy of cooking alone, after the death of her husband. They have been married for 45 years, and cooking together plays a huge role in their love story. Biographer Sara Franklin describes here The joy of cooking alone.
[Jones] Using sweet, evocative language in her notes and recipes, it was a food writing approach she had long encouraged her authors to practice; you want the reader, Judith says, to “be breathless when tasting the recipe.” You can’t take it anymore! She encourages readers/cooks to relax in the kitchen; “It may very well be a messy-looking pancake,” she writes in the title of Wild Rice Pancakes, “but who cares? This is just for you, and First of all, very delicious. pleasure This is an exposition of the ethics established by Judith throughout her life. “Cooking is a sensory experience and you really should use all your senses,” she writes in the introduction. “Enjoy the feel of the ingredients, observe what’s going on, taste as you go, and drink in the heady smells that arouse your anticipation…even if it’s just for you – or especially if it’s just for you .
I don’t need much convincing when it comes to “locating joy at the center of the table,” especially when I’m dining alone, which I do more often these days as an empty nester. My greatest joy in life is cooking for people, but that doesn’t mean I’m excited when I don’t have other flavors to consider.
It feels like last July’s holiday, when I was alone, carefully frying eggplants in oil and sprinkling them with spices so I could sit down and enjoy a plate of Heidi MacKinnon’s salt-and-pepper eggplants, all crafted to perfection. It’s the recipe I crave.
That night in November last year, I stayed in the hospital for a long time, didn’t eat anything all day, and went home very late. My father was very ill—he would die in a few weeks—and my own needs had receded into the background, until the moment I walked into the kitchen hungry. I made scrambled eggs and toast – using really good eggs and really good toast – and made myself a seat at the table with candles and a cold beer. The ultimate act of self-care.
Do you do this? What meals do you cook specifically for yourself?
PS What foods do geniuses eat when they are home alone.
(Photo: Stocky/J. Anthony.)
