Maybe you also have a really clear memory of the first time you cooked for yourself. I certainly do--the summer after my first year of college, I went to Chicago for an internship, knowing no one, having no place to live. Probably the boldest thing I have ever done. Going to the grocery store to buy food for no one but myself was daunting. Of course, being a weirdo, I had a very solid vision of what my cooking style would look like once I was living on my own, with neither my parents nor college dining hall staff to cook for me--so it was also pretty exciting. I was so sure I would know what I was doing, and would be able to cook smartly and cheaply, and would have a beautifully stocked pantry and a well thought out freezer. What those articles, with their beautiful photography, forget to mention is that this is sort of a difficult method of cooking to accomplish when cooking for one--especially one who didn't really know what she was doing. I didn't buy too much stuff for the grocery store, but I also didn't buy the right things. I had thought I would make a vegetable frittata---supposedly simple, right? And for the most part, it was...right down until the cooking time. A new oven, my first frittata...I had overcooked the vegetables initially, a problem that was not helped by the fact that I proceeded to cook the heck out of the frittata in the oven--it must have been in there, slowly drying out, at 500 degrees for about 40 minutes. Not a good scene. It came out of the oven, I remember, looking like puffy, speckled leather and tasting much the same. Over the course of the next few days, I ate all of it, not feeling comfortable enough to acknowledge my first try (and failure) and move on. There were a lot of questions that I asked myself, like "why did I have the oven on in 70 degree weather?" and "why did I use wintry vegetables like celery and carrots in June?" and "what the hell was I thinking?"
Luckily, the rest of that summer was colored by my first culinary successes--fresh cherry pies, gazpacho, guacamole-stuffed cherry tomatoes, and eventually a decent frittata. As with all things, it took some time to come into my own style of cooking; a style based on three equally important pillars of what I want to eat, what's in season, and what I have lying around the house that should be used up. I find this leads to an off-the-cuff style that makes me happy, because I feel thrifty and inventive at the same time. And, in this case, really satisfied. I hope you also make a frittata with whatever you've got lying around, using some good sense in choosing vegetables and just relaxing into the inventiveness of cooking on a weekend morning without leaving your apartment. And if it turns out terribly, think highly enough of yourself not to eat it, and to try again.
