There’s something sacred about cooking slowly.
Not rushing. Not multitasking. Just… being. 🍂
When I slice an onion, I feel the sharp sting — and I don’t rush it.
When I stir the soup, I let the smell wrap around me like a warm hug.
When I knead the dough, it’s like grounding myself with each soft push.
It’s not just food. It’s feeling. It’s memory. It’s care. 🥖🫶
My grandmother used to say:
“You can taste the mood of the cook.”
And I believe her.
You can feel it when something’s made with love.
With attention. With intention. 💭💛
Cooking has become my meditation.
When life feels noisy, I go to the kitchen.
I light a candle. I wash my hands like a little ritual.
And I begin — not just to cook, but to return to myself. 🕯️🍵
I cook for others, yes — but also for me.
Because I deserve nourishment. I deserve gentleness.
Even if it’s just a piece of toast with honey. Even if no one sees it. 🍯🍞
Food is how I say “I love you” without words.
Food is how I slow down time.
Food is how I create peace in the chaos. 🧘‍♀️
So next time you cook —
Don’t worry if it’s not perfect.
Let your hands move with love. Let your heart pour into the pan.
And taste what care feels like. 🍲💫