On most days, Anise would cook at least one meal for the house.

She had taken it upon herself to ensure that the unpredictable Celeste ate at least one meal every day. And since Bliss was often beleaguered by her chronic pain, Celeste would often cook for her, too. Since she was already making enough for three people, it was little effort for Anise to make a little extra for me, as well, so I usually got at least one of her wholesome vegan home-cooked meals.

However, this was only one meal and not every day.

Unlike in space, where I had been served my meals, I now had to fend for myself most of the time. Thankfully, I found that the skills learned in my high school cooking class came back to me quickly.

When I was in a particularly good mood, I would try something new. There was a certain excitement of returning to eating Earth food after so long. I’d remember some meal my mother used to make, look up a recipe online, walk to the grocery store to get ingredients, and attempt to cook it. The results would vary. Frying, I found, was difficult. I could never tell when something was ready or not and would always end up overcooking whatever I made. Sauteing produced better results, but I found that recipes often asked me to cook things for so long that they would end up leaving burned chunks on the bottom of the pan, creating a mess that was a pain to clean up. Baking and roasting were my favorite methods, since they didn’t require me to guess whether something was done or not. It was done when the oven beeped.

Days like that were rare, however, and I would more frequently reuse a recipe I knew I could make. Spaghetti was a favorite, since I found that almost anything I put in the sauce would taste good.

Still, even meals like that required too much effort on most days, so I had to learn the art of cooking while depressed. It’s something my housemates all knew already. Bliss usually kept several bags of dried noodles and vegetables with powdered teriyaki sauce which just required a little boiling. Celeste usually kept a few microwave dinners around, though she frequently ran out, so it was up to the rest of us to make sure the freezer remained stocked. Even Anise kept frozen veggie spring rolls for days when she wasn’t feeling up to cooking.

The first trick to cooking while depressed is to make extra food on days when you feel good. The more cheeseburger soup you make, the more days you can microwave it and eat something fairly wholesome. However, that will only get you so far. You could go with pre-prepared meals like my housemates; however, if you’re short on cash, like I was, you can get several days worth of cheap meals by purchasing cheap, easily assembled ingredients.

For example, I would purchase a pack of soft tortillas, a squeeze bottle of pizza sauce, and a bag of pre-shredded mozzarella. I would spread the sauce on a tortilla in a thin layer, then sprinkle on some mozzarella, heat it in the microwave for a few seconds, roll it up, and then eat it. My brother and I used to make those on days when my parents weren’t around to make anything. At Bliss’ house, they became a staple.

However, sometimes you run out of ingredients and don’t have the energy to go to the grocery store. This is when you learn how to scrounge. If you’re living in a house full of depressed roommates, there’s constantly food being left to go bad. Meals that people bought ingredients for and lost the energy to make, forgotten leftovers. The key is knowing what’s likely to be left to go bad.

In my case, the first rule was to never touch Anise’s food. Her veggie rolls, her ingredients, any leftovers of things she had made for herself, and especially her chocolate, were off-limits. I could eat leftovers of meals she made for the house, but those were meant for everyone, anyway. For Bliss and Celeste, I usually only took things that had been sitting unused for a long time. If Bliss had a week-old carton of eggs and Celeste had some nearly-stale pumpernickel, I could make egg on toast. Pumpernickel might not be ideal for egg on toast, but at least I would be eating.

Of course, when you’re depressed, there are some days where even that seems like an enormous amount of effort. You wander the kitchen, but find that even making a serving of rice seems like an impossible task. For days like that, I kept a container of peanuts. A few handfuls of peanuts wouldn’t replace a meal, of course, but it was better than nothing. And I often found myself with more energy, and sometimes even my melancholy lifted enough to go out and get some fast food.