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Cooking is my passion and I can’t deny it. I grew up relishing cooking everywhere I could find it: at home, watching my mother in our rectangular kitchen, on TV, watching chefs recreate their inventions, and in restaurants, seated across open kitchens. I love everything about it.

To begin with, I love how so many seemingly ordinary ingredients could turn into something so beautiful and complex in taste. The simplest recipe I remember my mother making was an onion salad. Knowing what an onion tasted like on its own, my child’s brain was mesmerized by the power of mixing the right things together to make a masterpiece. The onion salad was a four-ingredient recipe, consisting of onion, lemon, salt, and lots of pepper. We ate it as a side to our main meal, but I could easily have eaten it on its own. It tasted like a summer day: fresh, light, and happy. How could the humble onion, usually hidden away in a meal, have become such a star? Cooking. It is magic.

Then, there is my belief that other than getting yourself to the bedroom, cooking is the only experience that satiates all senses. The smells guide your journey to the kitchen, the feel of salt between your fingertips as you season your vegetables, and the sizzle as you drop your ingredients into the pan. Each step of the adventure requires you to taste your way through, does it need more pepper? A touch of lime? And the colors that glide across the canvas of your pan, shifting patterns as new ingredients are added, are a sight to behold. As I said, cooking is magic.

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Third, moving away from home at a young age, I battled homesickness by recreating my mother’s recipes. They connected me to her when I couldn’t always just go visit or give her a ring. The funny thing is that I didn’t even need to conquer a recipe to feel at home. Getting the taste right was the bonus, but not the goal. Just the act of tempering spices in a pan, deveining prawns, or stir-frying would transport me back to my mother’s kitchen. I imagined her doing the exact same motions that I was, she was of course a much more experienced chef.

Finally, cooking is self-care. Don’t get me wrong, my Sunday self-care routine includes masks and baths, but they also include surveying cookbooks and gathering the right ingredients to make myself a meal. The entire process makes me feel worthy, a bit like royalty – banquet for one, anyone? It is a celebration of me, of making it to the end of the week with a meal that could not just be bought off a menu. No, this meal is unique.

Summing up, I was fortunate to be surrounded by brilliant chefs in my life who showed me the power of cooking. I can confidently say that cooking is my passion. It serves me in many ways. Some think it’s scary or they’re not good enough in the kitchen, but I would urge everyone to enjoy the process and not worry about the outcome. The outcome is only one of the benefits.

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