What Cooking Teaches Me About Being Present

My dad is a chef. My mom is a nurse-midwife.

Put those identities together and—poof—I became a therapist.

It took me a while to get here, but somehow it makes perfect sense.

Does that sound odd? Let me explain.

Being a chef and being a nurse-midwife are both forms of caregiving. Both require attention, intuition, patience, and heart. My mom helped empower families as they brought new life into the world. My dad created food that nourished people and helped sustain them.

I see therapy as part of that same lineage of care.

Therapy tends to the mind, the heart, and, importantly, the nervous system. It creates space for what is overwhelmed, frightened, exhausted, or hurting to receive attention. It offers support, connection, and the possibility of feeling more at home within ourselves.

That is the kind of brave space I want to create.

This blog will explore the connection between therapy and embodiment through small, ordinary moments: cooking, reading, resting, gathering, noticing, and finding joy. It will offer glimpses into the ways I practice nurturing myself and returning to the present.

Like my dad, one of my favorite expressions of love is cooking.

Cooking is also one of the places where I most naturally practice mindfulness.

Mindfulness, at its simplest, means being present. It means returning to what is happening here and now, staying connected to the body, and becoming curious about what we notice and need.

In the kitchen, that might mean slowing down enough to chop an onion, slice carrots, or dice tomatoes. It means paying attention to texture, scent, sound, heat, and taste. It requires focus, time, care, and a willingness to respond to what is actually happening rather than rushing toward the finished product.

And then, often, we share what we have made with people we love.

Food can offer comfort, pleasure, memory, connection, and nourishment. It shapes how we experience our bodies and our days. That relationship between food, the body, and emotional well-being has fascinated me for a long time. Before becoming a therapist, I earned a bachelor’s degree in nutrition and biomedical science, drawn to the many ways nourishment and healing overlap.

In this space, I hope to share adapted recipes from my many cookbooks, reflections on mindful living, books that stay with me, rituals that make life feel more meaningful, and small practices of rest and care.

Your mindfulness may look like cooking. It may look completely different.

You do not have to force yourself into stillness or become especially serene. You only have to begin with curiosity.

What helps you return to the present?