Why Food is the Heart and Soul of Who I Am
If you really want to know me, don’t ask for my zodiac sign. Don’t quiz me on my favorite movie or what song I belt out in the shower. Instead, take one look at my plate—because food is the ultimate autobiography, and mine is a best-seller filled with butter, spice, and probably a little too much cheese. A very large part of our travel adventures is tasting and learning about new foods. When we visit a foreign country we always bring back a bunch of candy/chocolate for sampling, our kids love this tradition.
Food is My Love Language
Some people express their affection with heartfelt letters or grand gestures. I, on the other hand, believe in the power of a well-cooked meal. If I invite you over for dinner, it means I like you. If I make you dessert, it means I really like you. Food is how I show I care, and nothing says “I love you” quite like an overstuffed plate of home-cooked goodness.
Every Dish Tells a Story
Food isn’t just sustenance—it’s a story in edible form. Every bite carries a memory, a tradition, or a piece of history. That smell of cream and sugar slowly simmering to perfection in rice pudding takes me back to my Grandma’s house. The scent of blackened peppers smothered all over a bird reminds of the time I spent in the Yucatan and felt like my tongue was being scorched off by the one bite of relleno negro (there’s no good translation in English).
Food = Culture, and Culture = Identity
Want to know where someone comes from? Take a peek at what’s on their plate. Food is an edible map of my heritage, connecting me to generations before me. The way I knead dough, season my food, or insist on making everything from scratch is a love letter to the past. It’s a way of saying, “Hey, ancestors, I see you, and I taste you.”
Food is Comfort, Chaos, and Everything in Between
When life is going great, I celebrate with food. When life is falling apart, I seek comfort in food. Bad day? A bowl of creamy mac and cheese is my therapist. Good day? Fire up the grill, we’re feasting. Food doesn’t judge. It just exists in its warm, delicious glory, ready to make everything just a little bit better.
Cooking is My Therapy
Some people meditate. Others do yoga. I chop onions with a borderline concerning level of intensity. Cooking is my personal stress relief, my daily dose of mindfulness. There’s something oddly therapeutic about stirring a pot, watching flavors blend, and turning raw ingredients into something magical. (Plus, if I’m elbow-deep in dough, I can’t check my emails. Win-win.)
I Live to Eat, Not the Other Way Around
Some people eat to survive. I survive to eat. Food isn’t just fuel; it’s a full-on experience, a daily joy that I refuse to take for granted. I’ll happily plan entire trips around what I’m going to eat. I’ll wait in absurdly long lines for the best taco stand. And yes, I will absolutely order dessert, even if I’m “too full.” There’s always room for dessert—it’s a law of the universe.
Food Brings People Together
Few things in life have the magical ability to unite people like food does. A dinner table is where stories are shared, friendships are formed, and laughter is loudest. Whether it’s a holiday feast, a casual brunch, or a 2 a.m. pizza run, food has a way of making moments more memorable. It’s the ultimate social glue. Food can span continents and bring different cultures closer in ways we never thought possible. We have 3 boys serving missions in foreign countries, 2 in Brazil and 1 in Nicaragua. The one in Teresina, Brazil started making banana bread for the locals, no one in that region had ever had banana bread (it’s an American invention). They loved it and forged a bond that nothing else can span. He would often join me in the kitchen cooking as a boy, like the picture below.
Tradition is Wrapped in Food
Food is more than just a daily necessity—it’s a vessel for tradition. Every holiday meal, every family recipe passed down through generations, every special dish prepared for milestones holds the weight of history and heritage. Whether it’s a Thanksgiving turkey, a Lunar New Year dumpling, or a birthday cake baked from a grandmother’s handwritten recipe, food carries the essence of rituals that connect us to our past. It’s the glue that binds families, cultures, and communities, preserving the flavors and stories of those who came before us. It’s good to make new traditions. For Christmas Eve dinner every year we pick a different ethnicity or country and make “traditional food” according to the internet and friends for that culture, the kids love to try new things (we unfortunately have created 7 super food critics). We don’t eat dinner Sunday evening, instead we just make dessert and that’s our dinner for the night. In the Yucatan on Mother’s Day they make relleno negro (I tried using google to find it, and none of those are what I had when there), it is super spicy only found in the Yucatan Peninsula. To make it they blacken habanero peppers and make a paste with it, then coat a chicken or turkey with it, then cook it underground. I had it a few times and everytime I was bright red, crying, and pouring sweat.
Final Bite
At the end of the day, food isn’t just something I eat—it’s part of who I am. It’s a reflection of my history, my culture, my emotions, and my personality. It’s the way I show love, process life, and make sense of the world. So if you ever want to truly understand me, don’t ask for my life story. Just ask what’s for dinner.
Leave me comments on your favorite food traditions!!
