I love to cook; a lot of people love to cook, so much so that it has become a trope to associate cooking with love.
For many people, cooking and sharing food is a love language.
But beyond serving loved ones, the process of cooking itself can mean so much to people.
Learning new recipes, experimenting with flavours, and pushing the culinary boundaries, it’s a marrying of art and science that results in eating, what’s not to love?
And yet, so many people view cooking as nothing more than a chore, a necessity so they can eat affordably and healthily.
What makes people love to cook? And, more importantly, can others learn to love it too?
As a kid, I didn’t like to cook; in fact, I avoided it entirely. That’s not a surprise for a child; aside from occasionally cooking with a parent, I doubt many kids would say they love cooking.
My mum liked to cook, and she liked to cook exotic food. It felt like every month she would be breaking out some fancy new cookbook she’d seen on one TV show or another, much to my chagrin.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to say I wasn’t thrilled about my mum’s cooking; that’s not to say her cooking was bad, far from it, actually, it was just a very poor match for my texture-sensitive 12-year-old self.
My dad was the exact opposite; something thrown in the oven with a couple of chips would do the trick just fine.
Suffice to say, I wasn’t particularly enthralled by the idea of cooking, although my gran’s cooking was always something to look forward to.
What did entice me, though, was baking.
From about age 9, I began baking consistently, and I got pretty good at it. After every bake, I would share the spoils with my family, who all seemed to love what I made, especially my grandparents, which was always extra special to me.
Cooking still wasn’t something I enjoyed. The pandemic was the first time I really cooked at home, largely because there wasn’t much else to do, but more so because I missed seeing my grandparents.
The first thing I really tried to make was my Gran’s lentil soup, it was one of my favourite meals as a kid, and so I wanted to be able to make it myself, according to her recipe.
But these were only really dabblings, I only started cooking consistently out of necessity after leaving school, where I was living alone and for the first my life, actually caring about my health.
I started by recreating my favourite foods that my parents and grandparents would make, before recreating my favourites from restaurants and cafés, and my favourite media. Cooking gave me such a feeling of independence; I was looking after myself and learning important skills. Not many of my friends cooked, and so when I was feeling somewhat confident, I started to invite them around so I could cook for them.
The feeling of cooking for others is unlike anything else really; You get to take care of them while sharing something you’ve poured your love and passion into, all the while facilitating togetherness and connection. There is a reason that breaking bread is a community ritual.
I spoke to my Gran about this a few times, and she more than understood it; in fact, I think it was one of the things that defined her.
She was always a feeder, always making sure that everyone was fed, both at home with family and out in the community.
At Christmas, she always made the three-course meal herself while at the same time fussing over everyone, making sure their glasses were full, and they weren’t wanting for anything.
But a few years ago, she fell seriously ill, and she couldn’t make dinner anymore; she couldn’t fuss over everyone, no matter how much she wanted to.
My brother, uncle and I stepped up.
We each took a course, filled it with all the love that she would, all the while fussing over her for a change.
My gran has passed now, but the family will still be fed, fussed over and given a care package of leftovers.
She may be gone, but her love for cooking and the love she put into it isn’t.
I hold it too, and her presence is in each bite. With the love skills and equipment that I inherited, I make sure that no one goes hungry or unloved.
I am lucky to have that inheritance. If that is not the case for you, try cooking and eating for and with the people you love. Perhaps, you can even get them to do the same, and you can all share some of your old favourites together.
You never know, it might just spark a joy you never found in cooking before, while deepening your bonds with the people you care about.
And then maybe one day, you too will love cooking, and pass that love onwards.
Features Editor and Head of Podcasting.
Fourth-year Journalism and Politics student.
Primarily focus of Politics, Technology, Gaming and Pop-Culture
