How to make cooking for one and solo dining a joy not a chore

Comforting one-pot chicken and rice, from Nici Wickes' A Quiet Kitchen cookbook, is the perfect example of a solo meal without any compromise. Photo / Todd Eyre

According to Census data, single-person homes make up nearly a quarter of all households in New Zealand, a proportion that’s been climbing steadily for decades. And with rising rent, high food prices and the pervasive belief that “cooking for one isn’t worth it”, it’s no surprise that solo diners often end up skipping meals, relying on pre-packaged snacks or defaulting to toast.

But a new wave of cultural cues is challenging that narrative. On TikTok and Instagram, videos showcase one-person lasagnes, countertop dinners with wine and freezer-stocking rituals framed not as lonely necessities but deliberate, even joyful acts of self-care. One viral example is the so-called “girl dinner” – a visually pleasing plate of mismatched snacks and low-effort nibbles. While its name skewed feminine and it drew criticism for potentially promoting disordered eating, the trend resonated far more widely. Its popularity signalled something deeper: a growing appetite for ideas on how to nourish oneself well, even – or especially – when no one else is watching.

Cooking solo isn’t just about reduced quantities – it’s a logistical puzzle, an emotional exercise, and, for many, a slow path to self-reliance. Supermarket portions aren’t designed for one. Recipes usually assume a tableful. And the temptation to just not bother can be strong, particularly when routines are disrupted by heartbreak, loss or major life change. Those who persist often describe a turning point: when cooking shifts from a chore to a balm.

Among them are a few New Zealanders who’ve helped change the tone. Sarah Tuck wrote her cookbook Coming Unstuck after her marriage ended.

“There were so many moments of emptiness,” she writes in the introduction, “but somehow making a good meal – even if it was just for me – felt like something solid.”

Her dishes, grouped into chapters with names like “Eat like a queen” and “Sad-arse dinners for one”, are tender, gutsy and often darkly funny. The meals aren’t fancy. But they’re honest, and grounded in a very real hunger to feel okay.

Another local voice in this space is food writer Nici Wickes, whose book A Quiet Kitchen takes a similarly unvarnished approach. Wickes writes that the book is not about “learning to cook” so much as “learning to care for oneself” – particularly for women who’ve found themselves alone, whether by choice or circumstance. Her recipes – think one-pan chicken, soups scaled for a single serve, or her signature sardines on toast – are designed to soothe without demanding too much.

Pasta is always a comforting and delicious dinner, solo or not. Photo / Todd Eyre

Try: Nici Wickes’ Walnut pesto spaghetti

Of course, not everyone has a publisher or the poetic instinct to turn solo dining into a journey. Sometimes it’s just about getting food on the plate in a way that doesn’t create more dishes than joy. For that, social media has proven surprisingly helpful – and not just for the dopamine hit of aesthetic reels.

Here are a few small strategies that make solo cooking more workable – and more rewarding:

Cook once, eat twice: Recipes don’t always scale easily, so lean into meals that reheat well – soups, stews, roast vegetables, grain bowls. Make tomorrow’s lunch as you make tonight’s dinner.

Freeze smart: Divide dishes into individual portions straight away. Muffin tins and small glass containers are ideal for single-serve freezing – no digging through mystery ice blocks later.

Rethink the grocery list: Buy loose produce, choose smaller cuts of meat or fish, and opt for pantry items with long shelf lives to reduce waste.

Invest in small tools: A mini roasting dish, a small saucepan, or a half-size baking tray can make all the difference. Oversized cookware just makes things feel more meagre.

Find your rituals: Whether it’s setting the table, lighting a candle or simply plating your food with care, solo meals are more satisfying when they feel intentional.

Try: Chef Peter Gordon’s tips for using yuzu

Our food culture tends to celebrate abundance and shared meals – lavish spreads, communal feasts, potluck generosity. Eating alone can feel like opting out of that. Yet it’s worth remembering that solitude doesn’t mean deprivation. A solo roast chicken can feed you for days. A salad for one can be dressed just the way you like it. A perfectly fried egg on toast, made with attention, can feel like a small triumph.

Cooking for one isn’t about settling – it’s about noticing. About paying attention to hunger, mood, energy. It might be with something microwaved. It might be with something exquisite. But the value isn’t in who’s watching. It’s in the act itself.

Herald contributor Nikki Birrell has worked in food and travel publishing for nearly 20 years. From managing your kitchen to cutting costs, she’s shared some helpful advice recently, including how to prep your barbecue for summer grilling, gourmet hacks for elevating budget ingredients and what toppings to choose for different crackers.