Cooking for One in Quarantine: Realistic Recipes for the Lockdown Era Kitchen

Author & Photographer: Maya Osman-Krinsky

Amid the chaos of a global pandemic, it’s remarkably easy for me to find stability. I was lucky enough to be able to flee New York City, where my family lives, to come to Chicago for the beginning of the quarter, but that meant quarantining alone for fourteen days. Being forced to stay home all day lends itself wonderfully to finding the parts of home that feel the most comforting, so I wasn’t surprised when I found myself in the kitchen for almost the whole day, my little projects and fascinations scattering the counter-top. I found solace in the noises I now had time to pay attention to: the sound of metal separating as I pull the tab back on a can of sardines, the sizzle and sputter of an onion sautéeing in a pool of hot olive oil, the squelch of my sourdough starter when I check its readiness, the crackle of the skin on a roasted chicken when I poke it to check if it’s done. No matter what’s happening outside, these smells and flavors don’t change the way the world around us does. It might seem--and may indeed be--superficial, but I do think there is value in finding peace in the things that remain predictable.

When I arrived to Hyde Park, locked and loaded with way too many groceries to make traveling by plane acceptable, I was really looking forward to tackling some big cooking projects I’d been eyeing, especially the exciting “Cooking in COVID” listicles that were appearing on Bon Appétit and NYT Cooking. But frustratingly, the “quarantine-friendly” recipes from traditionally trustworthy sources were (understandably) catering to a bougier readership with stockpiles of random fun and fancy ingredients; I didn’t see many possibilities feasible for a college student’s on- or off-campus apartment kitchen. 

So even though I brought an embarrassing number of food items with me to Chicago, especially for a plane ride, cooking in isolation turned out to be an experiment in creativity and versatility. I had a delivery of basic produce at the very beginning of the two weeks, which I dutifully scrubbed when it arrived, but more often than not, I was missing an ingredient (or four). The recipes I suggest assume that our emergency pantries, though void of fun and fancy ingredients, look pretty similar – a couple of onions, garlic, pasta, lentils, olive oil, basic spices, canned tomatoes, lemons, and some flour – and that our fridges might even look pretty similar, too– eggs, butter, some leafy greens, scallions, a little yogurt, some robust vegetables, and maybe even some herbs. They are endlessly substitutable (I’ll make some suggestions), use minimal equipment, and they’re fun to combine with any easy recipes you may also have on hand. These five dishes are some of my favorite ways to spend all of my newfound state-sanctioned downtime.

Pasta with Tinned Fish

I am a firm believer in pasta, and I am a firm believer in tinned fish, and as a result this recipe is one of my all-time favorites. This works with any kind of salty, funky fish (sardines, anchovies, tuna), but if you are vegetarian or even fish-averse, this works with capers (if you have them), parsley, a squeeze of lemon, and some breadcrumbs. 

Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil and cook however many portions of pasta you plan to eat – this sauce works for two, so scale proportions up/down however you wish. I like these best with whole wheat spaghetti, but the bits of fish will cling attractively to whatever shape you choose.

Heat a quarter cup of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Cook half a yellow onion and two to three cloves of sliced garlic until soft. If using anchovies, chop roughly and cook these with the garlic simultaneously. Add spices (I like crushed red pepper or chili powder and paprika) and toss to coat. 

If I’m not using anchovies and instead using tuna, I add half a can of tuna after the garlic has cooked. Break up large clumps as you add the fish into the pan. Roughly chop two to three canned tomatoes and let cook with the tuna until the liquid has reduced significantly. Because this fish is significantly less salty, generously season with salt and pepper. 

With either of these sauces, once the pasta is al dente, reserve half a cup of cooking water and drain the rest. Add pasta to the pan with the cooking water and sauce, and toss to combine. Once pasta is glazed, mix in a few generous pinches of chopped parsley, and serve hot with a squeeze of lemon and fresh black pepper. 

Slow-Roasted Chicken 

When I’m lucky enough to have a whole chicken hanging out in my fridge or freezer, I’ll roast it at the beginning of the week and eat away at it for the next few days. The best roast chickens I’ve had and/or made have used minimal ingredients and been background music (can smells be music?) for my afternoon’s activities. Once you have dressed your chicken up with whatever you desire, let it roast at 300° for two and a half to three hours – low and slow is the trick for moist, flavorful chicken that you can pull apart and off the bones instead of struggling to carve it. It’s worth the wait. If you don’t have a whole chicken, you can still roast thighs or breasts with these seasonings at 375° for 15-20 minutes. 

For a basic, never-fail, mostly hands-off recipe, all you need is a lemon, a head of garlic, half (or more…) of a stick of butter (or a quarter cup of olive oil), a chicken, salt, and pepper. Once you have preheated your oven and patted the bird dry, season the chicken all over (and inside the cavity) with salt and pepper, and place into a cast-iron skillet (a sheet pan will work too, if you don’t have one). Cut both the lemon and garlic in half or in quarters and place face down in the skillet, nestled in next to the chicken. Pour melted butter or olive oil all over the chicken, and put the whole thing into the oven. 

This gochujang chicken recipe was my first foray into the low-and-slow method, and is divine. It requires relatively few ingredients, but some that might not be in every pantry or fridge. If you’re willing to mask up and dash out to the store, it’s worth it, with or without the potatoes. I love it next-day (or two days later, or three) over soba, reheated (read: fried) grains, or even tossed into a salad.

Finally, here’s a recipe for melt-in-your-mouth “faux-tisserie” chicken. It relies on a spice rub made from fennel, red pepper flakes, marjoram, thyme, salt, and pepper, but works with other spice blends (paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, oregano, thyme, coriander and cayenne; paprika, cumin, sumac, garlic powder; or even a simple salt, pepper, smoked paprika combo). You can really use whatever’s on hand, adding zest or a squeeze of citrus for extra tang. 

Ottolenghi’s Cauliflower Fritters

THANK YOU Yotam for being realistic! I was only missing two ingredients for this recipe, but loved the outcome so much that I riffed on it later in the week, swapping the cauliflower for sweet potato and the spices for a harissa blend that I’d had in my fridge since B.C. (Before Corona). This would also work with whatever leftover vegetables you have, as long as you get them to the same tender consistency before mashing them into the batter.

Before starting the fritters, make the dipping sauce. Whisk two thirds of a cup of Greek yogurt with a pinch of chopped parsley, a few strokes of lime zest, the juice of half a lime, a tablespoon of olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. When fully combined, chill or leave out, if you plan on eating immediately after cooking. 

Put a medium pot of salted water to boil. Cut half a head of cauliflower into small-ish florets. Put into the pot and boil until tender but not mushy, about five or six minutes. While the cauliflower boils, combine a scant half cup of whole wheat flour (AP works too) with a small handful of chopped parsley, one shallot (or a quarter red onion, if you have it, if not, you can leave this out), a minced garlic clove, two eggs, and spices in a bowl and whisk to combine. The spices Ottolenghi’s recipe calls for are cumin, turmeric, and cinnamon (in proportions of 3:2:1) but since I didn’t have cumin, I left it out and substituted it for a bit of coriander and za’atar. Add the warm cauliflower and mix, smashing the cauliflower as you go, until the batter is only slightly chunky. 

In a skillet, heat about a cup of oil over high heat. Once the oil is shimmering, spoon in the cauliflower mixture, using a scant palm-sized amount for each one (Ottolenghi recommends about three tablespoons for each fritter). Don’t fry all at once – the oil will cool down too much. Instead, fry in batches of two or three, adjusting the heat as you go. The fritters should take three to four minutes on each side. Drain well on a paper towel, and serve with the yogurt sauce. 

Shakshuka and Crispy Chickpeas

If, like me, you’ve positively run out of steam (and groceries) by the end of the week, all you need is an onion, a third of a can of tomatoes, some garlic, some spices, a can of chickpeas, and an egg or two for the protein-rich part of this meal. Traditionally, shakshuka is made with red bell pepper, but in dire circumstances can be left out. This meal is tangy and soft and crunchy and silky, and totally appropriate for any time of day. 

These crispy chickpeas are a no-brainer and way too easy to snack on while your shakshuka is cooking. Mince two cloves of garlic and let sizzle in a quarter cup of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Drain a can of chickpeas and add to the pan, tossing to coat. Season with salt and pepper, and turn the heat to low. Agitate the pan every now and then so that the chickpeas don’t stick; after about fifteen minutes these should be done.

Soften half of a sliced onion in a skillet over medium heat with a healthy amount of olive oil. Once translucent, turn the heat to low and add two cloves of minced garlic. Don’t let the garlic brown too much, but a little color is okay. If you have a red bell pepper, here’s the time to chop and add it. Stir and let the peppers cook for about five minutes. Next, roughly chop three tomatoes (either fresh or from the can), and add to the onions and garlic. Turn heat up slightly, and wait for tomato juice to evaporate. Here, add whatever spices you like – I like a little turmeric, coriander, cumin, sumac, and cayenne or another kind of hot red pepper. Don’t forget salt and pepper. Here, if you like, you can add whatever wilty greens are sulking in your fridge. Watch this closely, as you want it to thicken and reduce slightly, but don’t let it stick to the pan. If you turn the heat to low, you can leave this covered for a little while but make sure to keep an eye on it for consistency and color. A few minutes before you want to eat, create a divot or two in the tomato-onion mixture, and crack an egg into each of the wells. Cover again, heat still on low, for about four minutes to get a soft, silky yolk. An alternative route (and the way my grandma does it) is cracking an egg or two into the pan wherever and scrambling it all together. I love to eat this with a hot pocket of pita or a slice of bread slathered with eggplant spread or hummus, with a healthy pinch of za’atar on top. If you’ve made the chickpeas, they’re great on a little bed of yogurt with a schmear of Trader Joe’s Green Zhoug and a few torn parsley leaves.

Here I will plug LUCSA (Local Unified Community Supported Agriculture) from the Urban Canopy. They deliver gorgeous fresh produce around Chicago, and are committed to supporting family farms and collaborating with local Chicago businesses. Don’t leave the house!