So we have cooked, yes. And spent a lot more on in-home food and drink than usual but it's still not a huge hit.
We get take-out, but it's not the same. By the time we get it home, it needs plating and reheating sometimes. The offerings are limited to less-exotic things. We have to drive and receive the food in our trunk, leaving and returning from the sixth floor of our parking garage. Or walk to get stuff outside the restaurant. We don't get deliveries because one has to go to the main lobby of our busy building at a busy time to retrieve it (after securing an elevator we don't have to share).
Above is a picture from a restaurant about twelve blocks from our apartment, snapped in the restaurant in the Before Times. It is a preparation of sweetbreads. I love organ meats. They are not offering them for takeout. No surprise. Organ meats are not everyone's cup of tea. To mix a metaphor with a, well, I don't know. In any case, dining at a restaurant and is not the same as bringing it home. It never will be. But we aren't willing to sit and eat and drink, unmasked, around others that are similarly bare-faced.
We even got takeout when our favorite greasy burger joint opened for takeout or outside dining. We'd hoped to get it in the trunk, but the phone number wasn't working. I didn't appreciate even waiting at the outside window with people dashing around, some unmasked. But we got the polar opposite of exotic organ meats. And it was delicious. And tasted all the better served from a plate.