When I’m sad, I tend to default to the easy way out for food: takeout from the closest cafe, thin noodles that boil quickly, packaged snacks. It leaves me in a cycle of laziness and unhappiness. Recently, I’ve realized that I’m finding more joy in stepping back and savoring the long process of a meal coming together instead.

For me, to take care in preparing my food is to take care of myself.

What would you do if you found a knife on the ground? The answer is a reflection of privilege.

A casual story about finding a knife in New York City got me thinking

Cooking with my partner is a beautiful element of our relationship. Here’s why it’s special to us.

Few things bring me more joy

Being in nature is a form of self-care for me. Here’s how I manage it living in a city.

It’s also forced me to confront my privilege