I didn’t expect to eat alone tonight, but ended up having to consider whether to regardless, cook for myself the meal I had planned to cook for me and my lover, or to get a ready meal of sorts… he was called away….

Much as I love cooking for others, I derive a singular pleasure, mostly unspoken of, in cooking for myself. Tonight I didn’t have to change the menu: I was going to cook a Thai green chicken curry with noodles, so all the ingredients were waiting in the fridge and larder.

So, I chopped the fresh lemongrass first, pausing to go and put on some music: a song that I’m learning to sing: I have at least ten versions of it on itunes….a song that I wish to sing for this same man whom I was going to cook for tonight: I am, how you say?, a hopeless romantic I’m afraid…

Back to cooking….and chopping of lemongrass, spring onion or scallion(the white bits), frying it off with green curry paste(courtesy Woolworths: I used to make my own, and sometimes still do)… adding coconut milk, chicken, a slurp as Floyd would have said, of fish sauce, and later mushrooms, courgettes and broccoli.. and then three minutes before serving, a tight nest of noodles, watching it loosen almost immediately in the fragrant liquid… a scatter of torn basil leaves later, and I carried the bowl of steaming curry to my candlelit lounge, the sweet solitude of an unexpected but somehow soothingly familiar evening alone settling in my soul as the fragrant food found its way to my belly…

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