Lasagna, Because I’m Worth It! A Rich Slice of Self-Love

by Meredith Siegel Cohen, Creator, Single and Striking Out

Food excites me—way more than it should.

I don’t know why. The first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning is my cup of freshly brewed coffee. The smell, the creamer, the joy of sitting in the quiet and taking those initial hot sips—I literally cannot wait. And then, as I’m making breakfast—which I NEVER miss—I’m already thinking about what I’m going to have for dinner (and lunch, and snacks, and dessert). It’s a never-ending, critically important cycle in my life.

Last weekend, as I was scrolling through my phone, I came across Giada De Laurentiis’s recipe for Crispy Sheet Pan Lasagna. OMG. The way it looked when she pulled it from the oven—with seared edges, gooey cheese, and red sauce still bubbling—was just delectable. It took everything in me not to rush out to the market right then and there to buy the ingredients so I could enjoy that deliciousness by day’s end.

Beyond breakfast, I don’t cook much for myself anymore. As a single, middle-aged woman with both birds out of the nest, I spend my weeknights catching up with friends or family over dinner out or ordering something in. I find it’s just easier than meal-prepping for little old me, and one meal out typically stretches for two days. Plus, I just adore going to restaurants and being served a meal.

There is, however, something very special about a home-cooked meal—it symbolizes love to me. Perhaps it stems from all the meals my mother painstakingly prepared for our family growing up. I remember her cooking tirelessly in the kitchen, preparing full dinners with pride (no chicken nuggets and French fries for us), and, when everything was ready, calling us to eat at a beautifully set table. I remember the smells wafting up to my bedroom, the joy of sitting down together as a family, and the conversations that unfolded. I have always maintained that cooking for another is one of the greatest gestures of kindness and care.

For years, I cooked for my family. I distinctly recall the pleasure of planning out a week’s worth of meals, knowing I was giving my children extra warmth by mimicking my mother’s work. Okay, my kids did get chicken nuggets and fries (and toaster waffles and pancakes), but they also got plenty of interesting recipes along the way—at a table often set with linens and flowers to enrich the experience. I remember baking homemade cookies just as school was letting out because I wanted the smell of sugar and chocolate to hit their noses the moment they walked through the door. Surely, nothing that happened that day couldn’t be fixed by a warm chocolate chip cookie! Because to me, food was equivalent to a big hug.

In my second relationship, my ex would cook for me. It was a real treat. He would send me into the living room with a glass of wine, telling me to stay out of the kitchen and “relax” until dinner was ready. And he actually cooked a pretty good meal! He also perfected my veggie egg-white scramble and would bring coffee to the bedroom while he prepared it. Those were certainly expressions of love (mixed in with a lack of fondness for restaurants, but I digress).

I’ve noticed that I don’t take the time to cook for myself anymore. Now that I’m alone and sitting at a table set for one, I don’t put in the same kind of effort and care. Why is that? Well, sometimes it’s because I don’t think it makes sense to prepare larger meals (I’ve yet to master single-portion cooking) or because I don’t want to spend money on all the ingredients for just one dish. But I think, more often than not, it’s because it doesn’t feel worth it when I’m just cooking for myself. How ridiculous!

What does L’Oréal say? Because YOU’RE worth it! Hell yeah, L’Oréal! We singles are worth every ounce of food love that couples and families are!

So last night, I made that darn lasagna. Check out my work!

It was even more delicious than it looks.

Admittedly, I didn’t set the table with pretty décor or even wait to get it onto a plate. I cut into that hot, gooey mixture and enjoyed it right at the kitchen counter—which is quintessentially single. As I was cutting, I felt something else bubble up—a feeling of being cared for. Why do we so easily show love to others and hesitate to do the same for ourselves? Knowing that I took the time to shop for the ingredients, prepare this dish, and cook it for no one other than myself felt so good.

Self-love means different things to different people—obviously, not everyone is as food-obsessed as I am. I think, ultimately, it’s about setting aside time to nourish yourself, in whatever way makes you feel good, with intention, effort, and joy.

But hey, if roasting a chicken or baking a chocolate cake does it for you, welcome to my world—where my oven now sees more action than my dating life! And that’s not saying a lot.

Sending self-love your way,

Meredith

P.S. So, what’s your version of lasagna? What’s something you used to do for others that you can start doing for yourself? Please share in the comments below!