Christensen: Adapt and learn to cook

Living on my own for the first time this year, I quickly realized my ineptitude with basic life… Living on my own for the first time this year, I quickly realized my ineptitude with basic life skills.

I paid my bills on time and did my laundry. Most days I even made my bed. The real issue came at dinnertime, when barren shelves offered little comfort for my empty stomach. Life after a meal plan is difficult.

I knew I brought my hunger upon myself. My mother always tried to encourage me to cook. Before I moved into my apartment this summer she attempted to teach me a few simple recipes, but I was more interested in watching “Entourage” re-runs.

I immediately regretted my apathy once I arrived to school. In class I would day-dream about filet mignon and a tray of chocolate chip cookies.

Pitt guarantees housing for the first three years of school, but by junior, senior, or even sophomore year, many students are ready to move on. We are paying an institution to prepare us for the real world, and taking care of oneself is part of a comfortable, well-rounded lifestyle. Pitt already offers one-credit dance, exercise and swimming classes. So why not offer some domestic skills classes, too? A home economics course would be the perfect way to prepare for the harsh realities of life after Market Central.

Pitt spokesman John Fedele said that he had never heard of a college home economics program and didn’t know if it would be considered at Pitt.

I’m not suggesting such a course should be mandatory. Still, imagine a class where your midterm exam involves baking a sheet of chocolate chip cookies or blending the perfect smoothie. Picture the glory of basting a turkey and arranging a rack of lamb for your final grade. The reward for rolling out of bed and going to a morning class would be a glorious well-rounded meal, complete with side dishes. College students would both never go hungry and not have to settle for the drab diets of canned soup and frozen pizzas.

I know I’m not the only one with domestic troubles. The first time I did laundry last year, a group of freshman living in Towers asked for my help. They couldn’t crack the detergent code: Does it go in before or after you put in the clothes? Before or after you started the machine? And softener? Their lights and darks were jumbled together in a hopeless mess.

Tutto Fresco and Magellan’s seemed like gourmet restaurants in my mind. I made an effort to sit next to freshmen in class, hoping that our blossoming friendship would lead me to limitless swipes into Market Central. Yet they weren’t very interested in feeding a creepy upperclassman for long. I stood outside of Market Central’s gates like Eve cast out of Paradise, never again to know the wonders within.

With time I’ve learned how to cope without a meal plan, but it’s been a painful process, and a class on this topic could have been helpful. At the beginning of the year my roommates and I got by on Krispy Kreme donuts. Once my arteries started moaning I switched to “healthy” options like pasta, peanut butter sandwiches and vegetables. Nothing made for fulfilling meals. Standing in the kitchen, locking eyes with my oven, I decided to suppress my gag reflex and cook meat.

I had difficulty bringing myself to dissect a worm in middle school. Separating the raw, quivering chicken from its Styrofoam tray was even worse. I gritted my teeth and threw the animal remains into the sizzling pan, immediately running to the sink to wash the residue of death from my fingers. After the meat was cooked I added French Onion soup mix, the crumbly kind that comes in a package.

I watched it cook and ate it tentatively. And you know what? It wasn’t so bad. Not like my mom’s, but edible. I broke up some lettuce and made a small side salad. My stomach raised its hands in triumph: Finally, a balanced meal.

I learned what I could and could not bear to eat — I still haven’t cooked pork or any kind of red meat — and what meals could last for both lunch and dinner.

The Giant Eagle in Shadyside is not easily accessible without a car — it’s no fun schlepping milk home on the bus — so my roommates and I only make the trek to a big grocery store about once a month. There we stock up on canned vegetables, soup mixes, frozen dinners and special fruit like pomegranates.

In the meantime, to prevent scurvy, I try to buy fresh produce at IGA weekly. Apples last seemingly forever. Black beans are good for protein, and taste especially good when prepared in a skillet with chicken and taco seasoning. I always make more than I can eat to ensure that I will have leftovers for the next day. Between classes and an internship I don’t have much time for making food during the day. I tend to cook late at night and eat what remains for lunch.

Today when I think of my dark culinary past, the months spent scraping by on dry Frosted Mini-Wheats and stale instant coffee, I cringe.

If you’re just starting out cooking for yourself, don’t worry. You’ll either catch on slowly or quickly starve to death.

E-mail Caitlyn at cac141@pitt.edu.