The Story Behind My Favorite Cookbook

so yeah, my favorite cookbook isn’t even fancy or instagram-worthy. it’s this old, kinda beat-up book my mom got from a street vendor years ago. cover’s half torn, pages got random stains (pretty sure one page is permanently smelling like garlic lol). but that’s kinda why i love it.

i remember being a kid, sitting on the counter while she flipped through it like it was some kind of treasure map. she never followed the recipes exactly tho, always tweaking stuff, adding “a little bit of this, a little bit of that.” i used to think the book was magic, like it taught her how to cook. turns out, it was more like a starting point.

when i moved out, she gave it to me. didn’t even make a big deal out of it, just “take it, you’ll need it.” now every time i open it, it’s not just recipes… it’s memories. the messy kitchen, the noise, the smell of food filling the whole house.

honestly, i still don’t follow the recipes exactly either. guess that’s kinda the point.