As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Twice a day, I spoon something into a ceramic bowl, or onto a little blue plate. I generally know how much because I’ve been given the code, anything from “not very,” to “HUNGRY!” to the most common, “medium!”
Typically barefoot, I pad down the little hallway, and the scuffling sound sparks movement in the room in front of me. Shuffling papers to clear space for food, a shifting of the mouse. It’s become Pavlovian. She knows.
“Yay!” Holly’s bright smile when I set food down for her, lunch and dinner, marks little high points in what has become the Quarantine Routine.
Our lives, like those of most of us, are not in fact being torn apart. We are not sick, nor are any of our family — even my 84-year-old mom is doing OK. In fact, I know only one person who has definitively had the Dread Disease, and she got better on her own.
I know, this is not the case for some of you, but for the vast majority of humans, this thing we’re in manifests itself more as a scary what-if than an even scarier reality. Most of us feel fine, but we all know that it could change for us tomorrow. And this is only the medical side of things. There is the economic, too.
That has affected us. My job has been hindered — I can’t really travel, and my ability to hunt or get on a fishing boat only now seems to be returning — and I, like most of you, am seeing a financial hit as the advertisers on this site pull back and customers buy fewer and fewer of my books. But for the most part, my routine hasn’t changed.
Holly, on the other hand, is the communications director for the California Waterfowl Association. And as such her job has gone bonkers. The only way the organization can interact with the world is through her department, and her workload has ballooned. This is why, most days, I bring her food while she works at her desk, which is maybe seven feet from mine.
We live in a little house, maybe 1100 square feet, including the garage. My home office is only about 80 square feet, and Holly’s isn’t much bigger; our house is a classic post-World War II California bungalow, and my little room was probably meant to be a child’s bedroom. She can hear me type this right now, and I can hear her clicking away, too.
Every morning I make coffee, tend my garden, read the news and answer your questions here and on social media. Then, I get up and think about food. What will today’s lunch be? How about dinner? Will we be doing something for this website, or for my next cookbook? (It’ll be on fish and seafood, incidentally.)
Lunch is invariably leftovers. Everything from my signature chilaquiles-style “garbage plate” — lots of good things cooked in a frying pan, bound with eggs and often cheese — to tacos, or sometimes just simple brown rice with leftover sauce or sofrito, maybe with a bit of last night’s duck or venison or quail tossed in.
I like this process, and so does Holly. It saves money, makes me more resourceful and frankly tastes wonderful. For me, I get to stretch my culinary muscles. For her, it is a home-cooked meal, complete with room service. It is a lovely little moment where I get to make her smile.
Dinner is more thought out, even on days when Holly isn’t taking photos.
The evening meal is when I experiment with new recipes, new cuisines, new ingredients. Dinner is when I get to play. We are fortunate enough to have plenty of game and fish in the freezer, my pantry of various wild oddities is always at least reasonably well stocked, and the garden can give us something almost every day.
These days the garden has been giving us all the greens we can handle. I grow, or, to be more accurate, allow to randomly grow, a host of weed-like wild greens, most of them various forms of Mexican quelites. They start coming in March and at least one of them will be going into November.
This is a good thing. When I travel, Holly rarely ventures into the garden to harvest (unless tomatoes are ripe), and I rarely order greens on restaurant menus; not sure why. But now, stuck at home, we are eating some sort of leafy green at almost every meal. Today it’s amaranth greens. Healthy, right? Especially when cooked in pork or duck fat…
Holly says she could eat the same thing over and over, but I cannot. In between endless rounds of washing dishes — the dark side of cooking every single meal at home — I take some joy in bouncing around world cuisines, or ingredients. Never will I hear Holly utter the words, “Aw… duck again?”
I try to end my daily work around 6 pm, turn on the radio to listen to the news and start cooking what I have planned for that day. I crack open a beer, or maybe pour a glass of wine.
She is still clicking and clacking away at the other side of the house. I am clanking pans and I am certain she can hear the staccato sound of me slicing onions, mincing garlic, chopping herbs and greens. It means that dinner isn’t far away.
Soon the aroma of dinner hits her, and I smile when she tells me I am making good smells. The bouquet of tonight’s dinner will linger in one spot in our hallway, sometimes until the next morning.
On the nights she shoots photos for me, we get prepped well before the food is ready — yes, we eat all the food you see in our pictures, it’s not fake — I plate it up nicely, she chooses the background, and we take some pictures. Then we eat, often on the back porch, with Harlequin the Cat prowling around somewhere close. Those are good days.
Sometimes, however, her work keeps her at her desk into the evening. These days I do my best to make Holly something nice, because, well, long days should end with a good dinner.
Through it all, Holly is the constant. She is my audience, and making her happy makes me happy. One night, a few days ago, Holly had to be away for dinner. It was the first time since Before All This. Undeterred, I made a vegetarian curry from Ghana (yes, greens again) and some Ghanaian meatballs, which are so good I’ll have to put them on the site soon.
But I was alone. Listening to the nightly news, sitting on the couch with that lovely meal I had just made. It felt… incomplete and vaguely absurd, like one hand clapping.
Then I thought about all of you who like to cook for others, who, because of our current situation, are now alone. For most of us, cooking is more than onboarding calories into your mainframe. It is an expression of love in any of its many forms: Companionship, familial love, even lust.
Without others to, at the very least, look up at you and smile at what you have brought them, what’s the point? I could see how a lonely cook could slide into a very dark place very quickly. Sure, you can use this time to hone new skills and try new cuisines, but where’s the fun in that if no one else can taste the fruits of your labor?
We all need someone in this terrible time. Wife, husband, sister, brother. Parent. Friend. Neighbor. Someone to share the lonely with. I’d be lost without Holly — for reasons that go well beyond dinner for two.
The Quarantine Chronicles
Edible Weeds: Eat Your Lawn
The best place to find edible wild plants might be no further than your own yard.
Read More
Making Stew with What You Have
Sometimes you have to make substitutions these days, and there is no better place to freestyle than in the stewpot. Here’s how to build a better stew.
Read More
Black Mood, Red Sauce
It hasn’t all been sunshine and light these days. Our little family suffered a death recently, and its inevitability turned me inward, to that dish that gives me solace when all around me is black.
Read More
Stretching in Place
Quarantine has been a great opportunity to stretch yourself mentally, physically, and culinarily. Here are some ideas for you.
Read More
Time and Place on a Plate
When you can get out into the world again, do so with new eyes. Seeing what is around you when you hunt, fish or gather can inspire beauty on the plate.
Read More
Wasting Less, Living Better
Being thrifty in these times is a necessity. Here’s how I stretch and innovate in the kitchen using what I have handy.
Read More
Support the Volunteers
In the garden, which for many of us is a place of solace these days, you will often find useful plants just growing, here and there. Consider supporting them.
Read More
How to Salvage Freezer Burned Meat
When you can’t go to the store that often, you look into the depths of your freezer. Sometimes you don’t like what you see. Here’s how to deal with ancient frozen bits.
Read More
Dear Hank, thank you for your words, your posts, and your books – we have 4 of them. Whilst there are a variety of reasons why we can’t try all of your recipes, I do try a fair few. Living north of the 49th my freezer is stocked with snow geese breasts, Canada geese, pheasants and duck (in that order of quantity at this time of the year). Tonight we made your Vietnamese stir fried duck but with a Canada Gose that had been brined for 2 days. The wings and legs, soaked in lime juice and soy sauce, can even please our tween daughters, leaving the breasts for searing (wrapped in prosciutto) for another night. I always look forward to your posts. Take care
Dinner for 2 rings a bell here – we’re both employed in “essential businesses” though my wife chose to shut down her practice and I’m mostly working from home. As a mineral exploration geologist, I can mostly work in isolation, which isn’t a lot different from my “normal” day. When I’m home, I’m either the “Prep B!tch” aka sous chef, or the Head Chef. On the food availability front, I have a good network of Nevada ranchers who have provided me with pasture raised chicken, eggs and grass-fed beef. Getting low on game, but still sitting well with grass fed beef from the same rancher. Hopefully, I’ll be lucky in the draw and score at least an antelope or cow elk tag. One thing I’ve noticed is the availability of fish at Costco that I’ve never even seen in the Reno area – last week I scored several pounds of Black Cod. I don’t think I’ve seen that outside of the Pacific Northwest – guessing it’s due to restaurant closures? Anyone else see this?
I, too, cook for my wife. It started about 30 years ago when I was working in the oilfield and my day started at 0300, she was an insurance agent and didn’t get off until 5:30PM. I’d been the main cook for my previous two and was pretty good. She loved it, she’d get home, smell dinner cooking, make herself a cocktail and sit down to watch the evening news. Her second (the first only lasted a year, she found out he’d been married twice before and didn’t bother with the niceties of divorce) was straight meat and potatoes and the only vegetables were beans, peas and corn. I got her over onto artichokes, asparagus (wild) and a whole lot of other things. Got her onto Brussels sprouts when I served them roasted (olive oil, salt and pepper, 425 for 25 minutes, roll them around at 12 minutes). Tonight she got the first of the feral hog, a 300 pounder. That porterhouse of the hog, 1.25″, brined and served just barely done. Brussels sprouts and saffron cous-cous. I have an ounce of saffron I bought at an estate sale for the tin it came in. I was pleasantly surprised when it contained an ounce of saffron.
Hank, This is a really lovely post. It is so dear and your love for Holly expressed in such a refreshing way. The photos are fantastic. Really enjoyed
this chance to get better acquainted.
Really fun read Hank. Love all the photos of Holly!
Oggs
Best post. Beautiful.
It’s so true about everything being right/better when having a partner to do things with/for — cooking, talking, strolling, growing things – in our case animals and plants, sleeping, waking, working, living… Feeling grateful and more rooted than ever. This experience, though a bit frightening re virus and related disasters, has had a lot of good fallout. I’m grateful you are able to write about it so well. Thanks.
In the interest of avoiding redundancy I’ll second the thoughts and emotions expressed above. Your gift of capturing these sadly unique times and common experiences for us hunters, gatherers, and wanna-be chefs, is hugely appreciated. Bless you Hank and Holly! Here in Northern AZ, the chile peppers (heirloom varieties from northern New Mexico and highlands of old Mexico), eggplants, and tomatoes have just been outplanted. A time for new growth and renewal, imho.
I see I’m not the only person who loved that post, Hank (if I may). I feel like I know you a lot better than I did (naturally), but also that I now know more about your lady wife than the bits and pieces you’ve revealed in your usual posts. I love reading about food, of course, but nothing beats hearing about love. Thank you.
Another great post Hank. It captures the feelings my wife and I share in this self imposed isolation. Cooking and eating is more a part of our routine than before, which is a mixed blessing. Although we walk 5 to 7 miles a day, it’s hard to keep the weight off with all the “experimenting” with new recipes. Last night we had the culotte cut (picanha in Brazil) from last year’s elk grilled, with greens from the garden and the first of the season’s purslane, along with garlic toast from my wife’s fresh bread. Better do 8 miles today!
That was a very nice post. I love to cook, and have been a recipe tester for several cookbooks. I know what you’re talking about. My husband traveled quite a bit before all this started, so I’m used to being alone, and cooking just for me. Now his job is deemed essential and he is gone close to 12 hours a day. I still cook for him, breakfast, lunch (something he can heat up in a microwave at work) and dinner…but damn Skippy, those hours in between are very long.
Exactly.
Well done.
Love this one! Words really cannot say how much I love this post. It’s beautiful. Holly is lucky and sounds like you’re a lucky guy, too.
The cooking for two is our house. I do the clinking and experimenting in the kitchen, while hubby watches the news. The cooking is definitely done with love and it’s nice to have someone to enjoy the creations.
Thanks again for a beautiful post… That’s not a tear, that’s an eyelash in my eye. 😉
Great read thanks Hank!
I read you religiously, however I got choked up while reading excerpts of this piece to my husband today. The lingering aroma in the hallway of your ” little house”, the fact that cooking for someone is synonymous with loving them, planning and creating something you can be proud of – are all things about cooking that have kept me going during this crisis. Thank you for the good work you do. You touch more people than you may know.
Your thoughts about cooking as an integral act of love and companionship have warmed my heart and brought me deeper into the folds of this wonderful life. Thanks
Thanks for the reminder to be grateful.
If this is all I read today, it will be worth having waded into the computer. Thank you for some beautiful sentences
What a refreshing and “spot on” post.
My wife and I are both retired and have been Self Isolating for 59 days now… and we love it ! [ and treasure each other ]
The way you described your daily routine[s] resonates with ours.
Thank you for this restorative post.
We wish both of you happiness and health.
[ But, please tell us, what are these “leftovers” to which you refer ?]
One of the best things you’ve written! I really connected with this all the way back to when I was young and would cook for my son, it always made me happy to make him happy with food even when I wasn’t as geeked out about cooking as I am now. The kid (now 23) has a passion for food and wild game and it makes me happy to know that. Now with quarantine I look forward to making food for everyone every day and my younger children love food as well!
This quarantine has been particularly difficult for my family. We lost my grandson to SIDS last November, so while we understand and are fearful of more grief. We are frustrated by others dismissing how devastating it can be. Our only solace is the 80 acres we have to explore, and be outside. It is good that you have found someone to share your life with, it took having children for me to find people worth loving.