Dinner for One Deserves Pumpkin Vodka Pasta 

I cook dinner for one almost every night, and I’ve stopped apologizing for how much I enjoy it. In fact, I began to romanticize it in a way that made my friends with families of four text me “Wait, that looks amazing.” Even dessert became something to enjoy on my own: a generous serving of tiramisu, with no need to share 

 Living alone doesn’t automatically mean sad microwavable dinners. In my first year as a solo homeowner, I treated cooking for one like an unwanted gift. Ripping off the cellophane of a frozen meal while the steam burned my fingertips wasn't exactly "giving yum." This smaller, sadder version of dinner made me feel like I had done something to deserve such a punishment. I sat at the head of my long table alone and didn’t even bother to place my still-frozen-in-the-middle dinner on a real plate. It sat miserably in its plastic container.

There was no way I was going to live out the rest of my life puncturing plastic with a fork to help heat my meals. I decided to start cooking and really cook. I deserved produce I could chop with the knives I owned but rarely used, sauces I simmered on an actual stove and the ability to sprinkle fresh parsley just because it makes the food feel celebrated.

For more seasonal inspiration, explore Appetito’s fall recipes, from comforting pasta dishes to autumn desserts.

Learning to cook for one

All the recipes I rummaged through over the years served four to six. Now, while I like to believe I have the appetite of two people when I get an eyeful of a bowl of pasta, I knew I couldn’t have that many leftovers for the week. Although I could cut the recipe in half, or in my case, quarters, it added insult to injury.

Pasta would be my first “cooking for one” dinner. I planned to make spaghetti pomodoro with fresh basil and ribbons of curled Parmigiano Reggiano on top. My table was dressed in my finest linens, with some Frank Sinatra playing in the background while I chopped the tomatoes in the kitchen.

Once the pot of water was boiling, I salted it and reached for my box of spaghetti. Then it happened. I poured the whole box in. My meal for one turned into a serving for four in one swift motion.

Evidently, I was on autopilot, with my subconscious remembering my mother using the whole box for our family of four. Once the pasta was perfectly al dente, I twirled only some of it in the saucepan. More than half the spaghetti went into a Tupperware container, where it congealed in the fridge, waiting to be used another day.

Within a few weeks of learning the correct pasta portions for a single serving, I confidently strutted through the kitchen. I went from measuring everything carefully and pouring slowly to eyeballing ingredients. I really wowed myself when I splashed wine in the pan straight from the bottle, as if it were second nature.

 Making dinner an occasion

Fast-forward seven years, and I’m still sashaying in the kitchen, whether I host dinner parties for six or woo myself on a Wednesday night with an elaborate homemade pasta dish. The only difference is how much say I get over what's in the dish.

For dinner parties, I’ll always accommodate everyone’s diets, whether dairy-free, gluten-free, vegan or pescatarian. I want the people around my table to feel cared for.

But the joy of choosing exactly what ingredients I want to add into a dish I get to consume is a feeling like no other. I get to leave my own table with my heart and belly full simply by giving myself what I need.

One night, I needed a plate of flavorful pumpkin vodka pasta with crispy sage and toasted panko, topped with spoonfuls of whipped ricotta. I immediately snapped a picture and sent it to my mother. Her response, “That looks real good, but not my jam,” was further proof I enjoyed eating for one. No complaints.

I have a few nonnegotiables when cooking. Always use a real plate; light a candle even if it’s only a weekday; buy the "good" olive oil because there's no one to judge the receipt; and play music to enhance the experience.

Cooking for one was suddenly romantic. I had the freedom to cook exactly what I wanted and remember that what I craved mattered. After all, the most intimate dinner party is the one with yourself.

Want to be the first to know about Italian food events, restaurant openings and culinary travel? Subscribe to the Appetito weekly newsletter.