Cooking With Love

Cooking With Love

He didn't ask me to make a sandwich. I made it because I wanted to.

Both my dad and mom can cook. My dad can make the best lasagna or steak (it's all in the seasoning). My mom is the most impressive when she cooks something ethnic. Cooking is a skill they passed onto me. I'm aware that many others, however, have not learned to cook, or their experience in the trade is limited. My boyfriend is one of them. His trust in my cooking and his need for dietary improvement have awakened a dormant homemaker instinct in me. However, cooking for him does not feel wrong at. As cliche as this sounds, I think it's on account of love.

It's funny, my guy knows how to cook some things. For instance, he prepared the turkey on Thanksgiving and ham on New Years. However, when it comes to some of the most basic foods, like pancakes or baked potatoes, he does not know to cook those. He says that his mind "focuses on the big picture but on the details, not so much". One day when I was over at his place, I made pancakes for him. He said those pancakes tasted "divine". (It's the vanilla!) He has trusted my cooking ever since.

If we do end up having a future together, I'd be the cook of the family, though I hope he will acquire some chef skills by then. I intend to teach him the same way that my parents taught me: by letting him assist hands-on. That way, if there are times when I'm not around, I want him to be able to provide a healthy home cooked meal for himself. Leaving all the cooking to the women can leave a bachelor living off of Ramen. I want better for my special guy than processed food.

By 2019, many women have moved off from the traditional homemaker role. Get me right, I do more than cook. I'm working on a Bachelor's degree in English after all. I'd been interested in the single life before Erik (a fellow writer) came into the picture as well, but now that I've found a man who so far is compatible with me, trying my hand at homemaking does not feel weird at all. Cooking a pancake for my beau did feel like a foreshadow for our possible future together and, contrary to popular belief, it did not rub off as sexist either. He was hungry so I made him a pancake. He didn't ask me to make the pancake. I offered to make him one because I loved him. Maybe it wasn't just the vanilla that made that the best pancake he'd ever tasted. It was love.

This is how cooking with love works: you want the best for the person or people you are cooking for. This motivates you to make whatever it is you are cooking, whether it is a pancake, lentil soup, or lasagna, the best your loved ones will taste, with wholesome and nutritious ingredients. (So I add vanilla.) I want my beau to enjoy the home-made flavor of my soup so much that he will no longer want to settle for Ramen.

I enjoy cooking as a side gig, a part of everyday survival. I like seeing my guy's reaction to my edible work and the way it strengthens his admiration of me as a hard worker and it gives me the motivation to continue what I'm doing as well as help him with lifestyle improvements. Teaching him how to sautee was a part of quality bonding time. I regard it as part of mutual devotion. Can you be a slave to something you find enjoyable? Is cooking slavery? Is love slavery? Maybe, but it sure doesn't feel like it.

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