We Became Each Other’s Favorite Dish

The summer of 2017 felt heavy.

I had just lost a job opportunity I spent months chasing between Dallas and Phoenix, something I thought was going to change my life and career. My relationship at the time was falling apart. Life was lifing in every direction.

I was tired in ways that had nothing to do with sleep.

Then I met Sade.

We worked together in a kitchen. I came in looking for a job and she was already there working the line.

The first thing I noticed was her short curly hair and her smile.

Truthfully, my first thought was simple:

I had to have her.

But what really stayed with me wasn’t just attraction.

It was her energy.

She was fun. Nurturing. Hardworking. She paid attention. Everything didn’t revolve around her. In kitchens, you learn people fast. Stress exposes character quickly. You see who folds under pressure, who creates problems, who brings peace, and who actually cares about the people around them.

She cared.

And at that point in my life, that mattered more than I realized.

Our relationship really started with food.

Little snacks during shifts. Lunches. Me making things for her in the middle of kitchen chaos.

Looking back now, I think that’s why it meant so much to me.

Food has always been how I care for people.

Not just professionally.

Personally too.

Then one day she came back from Walmart with Reese’s for me — my favorite.

Something simple.

But that kind of stuff means a lot to me.

I’m a simple man. The little things matter. Character matters. Paying attention matters.

That’s what really attracts me to people.

Not performances.

Not money.

Not loud gestures.

Just genuine care.

And honestly, that’s probably why food and love connect so closely to me in the first place.

Both are unassuming.

Neither barges into your life demanding attention when they’re real.

They comfort you quietly.

Food healed me by giving me purpose and direction. For some people, food heals by giving them creativity and expression. For others, it feels like a hug from their grandmother or somebody they love. Sometimes healing comes from nothing more than a memory attached to a smell or taste.

Love works the same way.

Both food and love comfort people from within, even though they come from outside of us. Somehow they both touch hurt, emotion, memory, and soul all at once.

Even physically.

Love gives you butterflies.

Food fills your stomach.

Both can change your mood entirely.

Just like trying to develop a new recipe, relationships go through phases where you want to throw the whole dish away and start over.

But just like that dish, if you keep working at it — balancing the ingredients, adjusting the heat, figuring out what’s missing — eventually it can become something beautiful.

A work of art.

It’s never easy.

You get burned.

You get discouraged.

You feel defeated sometimes.

But you keep cooking.

That’s probably the biggest thing food taught me about love.

Patience.

Consistency.

Care.

And understanding that beautiful things usually take time.

Years later, after long shifts, hard conversations, growth, setbacks, victories, healing, and six beautiful daughters, we realized something:

We became each other’s favorite dish.

Her chicken adobo and lumpia rolls.

My collards and ramen.

Somehow all these years later, food is still speaking for us.

That’s the thing about both food and love.

At their best, they remind people they’re worth caring for.

And sometimes, that kind of healing can change your life.

Tonight’s Playlist

• Get You — Daniel Caesar

• Boo’d Up — Ella Mai

• Best Part — Daniel Caesar & H.E.R.

• Coffee — Miguel

• The Bones — Maren Morris