Earlier this year, I went through a major change in my personal life. It disrupted my routine and, unexpectedly, my relationship with food. I lost my appetite for cooking, baking, and even grocery shopping for myself — something the recent snowstorms certainly didn’t help with. 

I still enjoyed eating, but instead of spending time in the kitchen, I found myself relying more on takeout or dining out with friends. Although it felt easier, I realized, over time, that by stepping away from cooking, I was also stepping away from one of my most reliable coping mechanisms for stress.

After about a month, I reminded myself that I plan to live at least another 70 years, and to do that, I needed to build healthy eating habits while I was young. If I wanted to feel like myself again, I had to reconnect with cooking — not just as a necessity but as an act of self-care.

The joy of cooking for others

There’s a unique kind of joy in cooking for more than just yourself. Sharing a homemade meal with loved ones creates connections and fosters community. 

In January, I spent a night on a Mennonite farm in Pennsylvania. The person I was travelling with and I had never met the family we were staying with, but one thing felt familiar: helping out in the kitchen. 

We peeled carrots and chopped potatoes, they had grown in the soil of their farm — a farm that feeds their 80-member community year-round. Before our meal, we expressed gratitude for the chicken raised by our host’s friends down the road. Knowing where our food came from added a layer of mindfulness to both the cooking and eating process, making the experience even more special. It reminded me of the joy of sharing thoughtfully prepared meals — a feeling I try to recreate in my own gatherings. 

During the summer, I love inviting friends over for rooftop dinners, where we share food and laughter as the sun sets around us. My roommate once told me it smelled like “Christmas in the kitchen” when I baked an orange cranberry loaf in July. This year, I’m especially excited to grow my own vegetables, deepening my connection to the meals I prepare. Food has always been a way to unite people, and there’s something deeply satisfying about watching loved ones enjoying a meal I’ve made.

The fine balance between science and art

Beyond its social benefits, cooking also offers a personal escape — a way to be fully present in the moment. When I’m in the kitchen, I lose track of time and become completely absorbed in the creative and scientific process. 

As a chemistry student, I find that cooking and baking feel very similar to working in a lab. Both require precision — measuring ingredients, following steps, and understanding how different elements interact. For instance, the bitterness of a food may indicate that too much of a basic ingredient — something that accepts hydrogen ions — has been added. This could be balanced out by adding something acidic — something that donates hydrogen ions. 

Making bread, alcohol, or even kimchi involves a fermentation reaction where microorganisms like bacteria or yeast break down carbohydrates and release carbon dioxide, alcohol, and acids. Even the distinct crispy texture of toast is caused by heating the granules of starch to lose water, causing a firmer, crispier texture. The right balance of acidity and alkalinity, the reaction between yeast and sugar, the way temperature affects textures — it’s all chemistry in the kitchen. 

Through my time in the kitchen, I have learned the hard way that small changes make a big difference. One time, I accidentally added too much baking soda to a batch of cookies, and they turned out bitter instead of sweet. Alkyl, or basic materials — like baking soda — typically have a bitter taste, while acids, like those in lemons, taste sour.

Baking soda is a basic compound. This means that when it mixes with other acidic substances, it creates carbon dioxide gas, forming air bubbles that help cake batters rise, giving baked goods their deliciously fluffy and light texture. Who knew an extra half teaspoon of powder could have such an impact? But, just like in science, mistakes in the kitchen are opportunities to learn. 

While precision is important, cooking is also an art — a space for experimentation and self-expression. 

Our experience of flavour is actually a combination of both taste and smell. While our taste buds can only detect a handful of basic tastes, our sense of smell allows us to perceive a much wider variety of flavours. Our perception of flavour is linked to our own experiences. To determine what specific flavour a food is, our brains recall what scent is associated with what taste, which is why having a cold affects our sense of taste. Vanilla doesn’t strongly register as any of our typical tastes on the tongue, yet it is one of the most easily recognizable flavours because of its scent. 

Another important factor in how we experience flavour is the Maillard reaction, also known as the browning reaction. This chemical process is what gives cooked foods their distinct taste and aroma. 

The Maillard reaction is a type of redox reaction, which means it involves the exchange of electrons between molecules. It begins when an amino group reacts — a nitrogen atom bonded to two hydrogen atoms — with a sugar component called a carbonyl group — a carbon and oxygen connected with a double bond. This reaction sets off a chain of changes that produce the rich flavours and golden-brown colours we associate with foods like grilled meat, toasted bread, and roasted coffee. 

A history of cooking

The science of cooking has garnered much attention over the years. Cooking is an essential life skill. As our ancestors traversed the land’s dangerous terrain hundreds of thousands of years ago, knowing which plants or berries were poisonous and which were nutritious was a life-and-death situation. 

And speaking of the past, the introduction of fire and heat as a tool to make ingredients more safe and flavourful to eat was a game-changer for early humans. The control of heat meant that early human tribes didn’t have to be nomadic anymore, subject to the whims of the Sun’s heat. Using fire to cook also meant that the tough tissues of difficult-to-digest animals could be easily digested once cooked, allowing our ancestors to receive the necessary nutrition without falling ill. 

But what about today? 

As a society, we increasingly rely on industrialized food sources, which affect the quality of food in our diet by diluting the nutritional density of certain ingredients, such as fruits and vegetables. While research in cooking has focused on how it can utilize fresh, non-industrialized ingredients to whip up delicious meals, less attention has been placed on the psychological and social health benefits of cooking. 

However, a study on well-being and cooking behaviour has linked cooking and baking to mindfulness, showing that engaging in these activities — especially with our loved ones — can reduce anxiety and improve overall mental well-being. It links cooking to Martin Seligman’s model of well-being, a model describing the key elements that are necessary to flourish mentally, including positive emotion, relationships, meaning, and achievement. The study concluded that cooking contributed to increasing all of these components. 

Finding my way back

I am falling back in love with being in the kitchen every day. I remind myself that making meals is not just about sustenance — it is a way to care for myself and carve out a moment of peace in my day. Whether I am baking banana bread from overripe bananas or throwing together my signature fried rice from day-old rice, each minute spent back in the kitchen is now a small victory, a step toward feeling like myself again.