Have you ever had someone cook a meal for you?
Of course you have.
Your mother. Or possibly your father.
Or even your grandparents.
We are all born into a home where your folks just cook for you.
Because you’re too young to know how to cook for yourself.
And then when you get old enough, suddenly it becomes an achievement.
Most people I know would say,
“I only know how to make KD (Kraft Dinner)”
A lot of people tend to take these moments for granted.
People are just naturally born into living in a home where you eat whatever you’re given.
But food means so much more.
Having someone cook a meal for you mean so much more than getting that plate in front of you.
This past weekend,
I experienced something different worth writing about.
Earlier in one of my blogs, I mentioned that I cook for my parents.
This happened because of two reasons:
1. My dad doesn’t know how to cook.
2. My mum can no longer physically cook intricate meals.
So that’s when I took up cooking for my family.
Not only did I begin to enjoy how food becomes food,
but I also began to appreciate the cooking itself.
The act of cooking for someone, with someone,
and to consume food cooked by someone.
If you know a little bit about me,
I take on the role of cooking for others in my life.
I take care of others around me and that, in itself, is self-fulfilling.
It has strangely become a instinct of mine to start thinking of what to cook for dinner at around 5pm.
The scary part is that, no joke, around at 5pm my mind shifts into “What do I cook for dinner?”
Or when it gets close to dinner time, I just think about what I’m doing for dinner.
If I’m eating out with friends,
I am also in charge of figuring out places to eat.
And I love it.
Somehow, I’ve become the person in everyone’s life to look up to when it comes to food.
But this past weekend,
a friend of mine invited me over to their place and made these cute smoked meat sandwiches and said,
“You always take care of me, so I decided to make something for you in exchange”
And there they were.
Those cute mini sandwiches sitting there.
And it felt like the world just starting spinning the other way around.
It wasn’t just the super adorable mini sandwiches.
It was the very act of having someone else in my life make a meal for me for a change.
That one gesture made me write this blog.
It made me realize something so much more than what I knew about cooking.
When someone makes a meal for you,
it shows that they care about you.
It shows that they care about your well-being.
That your basic human needs are being satisfied.
And that part in your soul meant for food is being well-treated.
The very intention that my friend had for cooking for me is what really made me feel the way I do just thinking about it.
I had never felt anything like it.
(putting aside meals cooked by my mum when I was growing up)
So, I want to give a shoutout to my friend who’s made me realize that a simple act of cooking for someone else means so much more than just cooking.
It’s the intention of it.
And can simply translate itself to an act of caring for someone.
Thank you for being the one to look back.
So, hungry readers,
I apologize that this blog didn’t include some mouth-watering recipes and photos,
but I sure hope that your food heart is kept warm tonight.
Thank your cooks,
Thank you, mum.
For the amount of time you spent in the kitchen cooking to make sure your family was being fed.
I will never take any of those moments ever for granted.
I love you.
‘Till next time, friends.
Yours truly, Tiny Chef xo
*(FFT = Food For Thought)