Dinner alone is one of life's pleasures.

There is really a je ne sais quoi about turkey cooking - the air of festivity, the family squabbles, the constant basting - that does not apply to the turkey breast, which is, really, a convenience of food... A turkey without seasonal angst is like a baseball game without a national anthem, a winter without snow, a birthday party without candles.

No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.

When I was alone, I lived on eggplant, the stove top cook's strongest ally.

Many people eat salad dutifully because they feel it is good for them, but more enlightened types eat it happily because it is good.

For the socially timid, the kitchen is the place to be. At least, it is a place to start.

A world without tomatoes is like a string quartet without violins.