“Cooking, Connection, and Carrying My Mother’s Legacy“

My love for cooking didn’t start in a glamorous way—it started in the early mornings of my teenage years, when my late mother would call out from the kitchen,
“Hey you! Wake up and help me in the kitchen—don’t be a lazy girl.”

I can still hear her voice.
Firm, warm, full of love.

She was a master in the kitchen. She could cook anything—from traditional daily dishes to cakes and baked treats—and somehow, everything she made tasted like comfort, like home. At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate it. I hesitated to learn. But little by little, she drew me in. I’d stand beside her, sleepy-eyed, learning how to cut carrots and potatoes, watching how she measured ingredients not by scale, but by intuition.

Back then, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t just learning how to cook.
I was being handed a part of her soul.

Now, years later, cooking has become one of my deepest joys. It connects me to her memory, it keeps her presence alive in my hands. Every time I peel a vegetable or stir a simmering pot, I remember where this came from. I remember her.

Cooking, to me, is an art—just like painting.
It’s a space where I can create, feel, and express without words.
It’s nourishment not just for the body, but for the heart.

Today, I cook for myself, for my little brother and sister, and—God willing—someday for the family I may have in the future. Cooking is how I give. It’s how I love. It’s my quiet way of saying, “I care for you.”

Because of my commitment to my health, I’ve adapted how I cook too. I now avoid gluten and limit carbs, focusing more on protein-rich, clean meals that support my body and energy. It’s been transformative—not just physically, but emotionally. Taking care of my health through cooking feels like a new level of self-respect.

And I keep learning. I explore new recipes, try new ingredients, and play with flavours. Each dish is a canvas. Each ingredient, a colour. Cooking has become a rhythm in my life—one that keeps me grounded, creative, and connected to those I love most, even the ones who’ve passed on.

So yes, cooking is my hobby.
But more than that, it’s my bridge—to memory, to healing, to love.

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This story is a part of my personal journey. Please do not copy or reproduce any part of it without permission. Sharing is welcome with proper credit and a link to this blog