In the foreword of The Gastronomical Me, M.F.K. Fisher wrote that, “our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think about one without the others.” She added, “so it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and the hunger for it.” In 2019, more than seven decades after its publication, I began to understand what she meant when I started peeling off the layers of the harmful behaviors that had plagued me in the years after my divorce, and at that time still had the powerful capability to pull me under its spell at any given moment.

So now, when someone new enters the picture, the question isn’t Will I cook for him? It’s Should I? It’s Do I want to?  Do I want to invite him into the intimacy of my charming and mildly collapsing Parisian kitchen? It’s more than just inviting someone into my solo kitchen life, which is no small thing. It’s about allowing someone to witness what has become a sacred dance: my rhythm, my ritual, my recipes, my inner world.

I’ve spent the last few years turning solo living into a lifestyle I love, cherish, and am fiercely protective of. What used to feel like a lonely phase, even sometimes like punishment for not being “good enough,” is a full, layered life overflowing with self-love and so many possibilities. I travel alone, take myself on dates, routinely make big decisions without consulting anyone but my gut (and sometimes tarot cards), and still love cooking for myself.  

But there are also things about this lifestyle I don’t always want to admit, especially to myself: sometimes, the thought of letting someone into this world I’ve built feels very scary. Not because I don’t believe in love or partnership, I absolutely do! The fear creeps in because this version of my life, the one where I take up all the space and do exactly what I want, feels safe. 

I get it. It’s so easy to fall into the rhythm of delivery apps; the convenience makes it a no-brainer, and the options feel endless. With the choice between Thai and Mexican at your fingertips, why would you even consider chopping, stirring, and plating? 

I had no idea that opening my door to groups of single women would crack open my world and heart. It deepened how I see this stage of life, reshaped how I see myself, and reconfirmed that when women come together in community, it’s simply powerful.

I can’t possibly be the only person who talks to myself while cooking. Right? 

When I’m alone in the kitchen, chopping, stirring, seasoning, and tasting, I’m in the best company. My little one-sided conversations may seem like a quirky habit to some but for moi, they’re steeped in reflection, humor, and more often than not, self-compassion.

Spring is in the air, birds are chirping everywhere, the produce is ripe and bursting with flavor, and the sun doesn’t set until 9:30 in Paris! So, obviously, it’s the perfect season to be outside taking yourself out on dates. 

In 2016, I did everything in my power to avoid the deafening silence of my apartment. I was begrudgingly single, navigating heartbreak horribly, and not being very kind to myself. (More details about that in my book.)

Suffice it to say, I hated the stage of life I was in and tried doing everything in my power to change my circumstances at the time. Meaning replace my old roommate (ex-husband) with anyone who would distract me from the pain. 

Paris remained beautiful, as she always does, even when you’re in the trenches of life. A part of me knew how lucky I was to be starting over in such a place. But I didn’t want to start over. I wanted the picture-perfect life I had imagined. Life, of course, had other plans.