Maybe a bit silly, but I've always found a simple peace and joy in preparing and cooking a meal for other people who love my food, one that I can't really describe :)

I spend an inordinate amount of time combing through my recipe books and the Internet, trying to decide which feels right. Something that is more exciting and your average meat-and-potatoes meal, but isn’t so far out of my wheelhouse that I’m a frayed mess by the time I serve it. He has never complained about the food I’ve provided, but I’m always pushing myself to improve, to impress.

I land on a recipe that has many of his favorite components - it’s simple, but has complex enough flavors that I can feel my mind parsing through the steps in excitement. I set myself to work, chopping vegetables and trying not to maim myself as I dance to the music from my speaker. I’m in my element, drawing upon practiced motions that come to me like breathing.

As the ingredients hit the pan and sizzle, my mouth is already watering at the scents rising from the stove. A little shallot, some seasonings, and chicken thighs come together as my music continues in the background, a swaying performance that will hit its climax as he brings the first bite to his tongue.

The food prepared and dished out, I call him over to taste as my heart swells with the hope that he loves it. He gives me a kiss first, and is sure to tell me that everything smells incredible. Since he has a cast iron tongue and refuses to bow to the human demands of temperature, he takes his first bite without a care. I watch carefully for the telltale signs - his shoulders relaxing, his eyes closing, a pause in chewing. All are reflected back to me as he sighs and turns back to smile at me. “This is amazing, why is everything you make amazing?” he asks. I just smile and swat at his shoulder. He shakes his head, laughing. “You really are a fantastic cook. Thank you for making this for me.”

Little does he know, those words will buoy me to the next meal. As they will the next, and the next.