cooking romance.

mmmmmm… when I cook I’m in love. 

When I cook all I feel is romance, smelling all the aromas from the food makes me extremely happy. Why? Well because it smells so good, I mean not as great as my grandmother’s Cuban cooking, but damn. It smells good, then I’m funny; I never actually taste my food, I smell it because then I know how it tastes. 

Weird? Or do you y’all understand ? Not because I don’t want to taste it, but I’m a worrier lol. If I taste the food and I even double think the flavor I would spend the whole day in the kitchen. Worried. 
Side note: I’m “that” person who when their food comes to the table at a restaurant, I’ll lean in and take a whif of my food. Only then do I commence to eat my food.

Once I get to eating the food I’ve cooked, watching Karol eat her food as well. I know I’ve done good, Karol loves me enough to tell me if she does not like something. While I creepishly watch her eat, I’m in love. I’m in love with her, with cooking for her, with being able to do something I enjoy as much as she does. I’m in love.

 When you feel love while cooking, it’s such a pleasant feeling. It’s almost like my goal, I want my food to be eaten. It satisfies me emotionally. (Ok maybe I’m being overly dramatic) 

But truly, cooking is love. 


One thought on “cooking romance.

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