Dinner for one

Whether you live alone or find yourself cooking a solo meal every now and again, it’s an opportunity to ditch the rules and make what you like, just how you like it. Janneke Vreugdenhil has smart and simple dishes for every mood and mindset

On the kitchen counter are a steak, two lumpy potatoes and a head of lettuce. My evening meal. I slice off a chunk of butter and drop it into the pan. Plop. Turn on the hob, sizzling sounds. The butter bubbles furiously then slowly but surely, the foam dies down and a hush descends over the pan. I sieve the yellow liquid into a clear jug. My laptop is on the counter, too, I call up a playlist. The sounds of John Coltrane. I rinse out the pan and pour in a splash of white wine. An equal amount of vinegar. I peel and finely chop a shallot, pluck the pointed leaves from two sprigs of tarragon. I fill a glass with wine and as I drink from it I let the liquid in the pan evaporate. I peel potatoes, slice them thin as matchsticks, rinse and dry them. In a frying pan I add a splash of oil and then the potatoes, and cover them with a lid. I open the kitchen window, feel the blast of crisp outdoor air and sing softly along with Coltrane as he blows ‘My Favourite Things’. Then a bit louder and more off-key. No one can hear me. I’m alone. I’m making myself steak Béarnaise with chips and salad. And then I don’t feel so bad.

Man, I do love Coltrane. While the meat is resting, I hum as I look for my favourite plate – a flea-market find made of white porcelain and decorated with delicate blue blossom sprigs, a dragonfly, a butterfly and some birds. I take a napkin and cutlery, and I lay the table. I light a candle. What do I care? This is my party. Dinner for one.