Chop, Chat, Chew

#255

I started cooking with my partner recently. And what a revelatory experience that has been!

Not the cooking itself — I've done that plenty. But cooking together. Intentionally. As a daily ritual rather than a chore to knock off the list.

Here's how it usually goes. One of us chops vegetables while the other gets the pan going. We catch up on the day — the mundane stuff, the funny stuff, the stuff that somehow never comes up when you're just sitting across from each other at dinner. The kitchen becomes this strange little confessional where conversations flow easier because your hands are busy and your eyes aren't locked in that "we need to talk" formation.

And then there's the sounds. The carrots snapping under the knife. Onions sizzling as they hit oil. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of dicing that honestly feels like a personal ASMR session I'm creating for myself. You don't notice these things when you're rushing. But when you tune in? It's almost meditative. Mellifluous, even.

Does it take longer than ordering in or microwaving something? Absolutely. But here's the thing — when you've watched the raw ingredients transform, when you've smelled the spices bloom in real-time, when you've tasted and adjusted and debated whether it needs more salt — you savor the final plate differently. You're not just eating. You're enjoying your creation.

Every sense gets a seat at the table. Sight, sound, smell, taste, touch. All engaged. All present. No screens competing for attention. Just two people, a cutting board, a pan and spatula, and whatever the fridge had to offer.

As Thich Nhat Hanh put it: "When you are washing the dishes, washing the dishes must be the most important thing in your life."

Replace dishes with dinner. Same wisdom. Better ending — because you get to eat it.