They say, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” But that’s old news. The way to anyone’s soul—man, woman, in-between, or beyond is through the kind of meal that makes you close your eyes mid-bite, whisper “oh my god,” and forget your own name for a second.
That’s not just dinner. That’s intimacy. That’s foreplay. That’s the purest form of affection without saying a single word.
And in this world of overpriced flowers, recycled text messages, and love shaped like convenience… food is the real damn currency.
Because let’s be honest words fade, dates blur, promises dissolve. But you never forget who made you that perfectly crispy eggplant parmesan at 1AM when you were hungover and heartbroken.
You never forget the one who poured warmth into your bowl when the world felt cold. Love isn’t loud. Sometimes it smells like garlic.
Sometimes it’s plated with wild mushrooms. Sometimes it’s wrapped in banana leaf and served with sambal that burns like hell but heals like therapy.
Food Doesn’t Flake. People Do.
Tell me, how many people said “I’m here for you” and never showed up when the storm hit? Meanwhile, that bowl of curry you didn’t even ask for? It showed up. That homemade pho someone drove across town for? It showed up. It came with herbs, broth, and intentions.
And you felt seen. Not with a gift card. Not with a selfie captioned “thinking of you.” But with lemongrass. With butter. With care folded into flavor.
That’s what gets me. Love, in its rawest form, is nourishing. Not performative. And food—real food, not the sad cold fries you ordered alone at 2AM is the last honest thing we have.
You Want Loyalty? Feed Someone.
We don’t talk about it enough, but good food builds trust. It’s the reason your grandma never had to say “I love you” out loud—her fried rice said it for her.
It’s the reason you still crave the warung on the corner that fed you through your worst break-up. That wasn’t just about the spice. That was loyalty. Daily. Affordable. Delicious. Unbothered.
And that’s why food has become my language. I don’t need long talks under the stars—I need a shared plate of gyoza where we both fight over the last one.
I need you knowing exactly how I take my coffee, and bringing it without being asked. That’s fluency. That’s how I speak. That’s how I listen.
It’s Not That I Don’t Like Romance—It’s Just That I Like Risotto More
Chocolate hearts and overpriced set menus on Valentine’s? Nah. Give me a man who slow-cooks his feelings into a Sunday stew.
Give me a friend who shows up with banana bread and a tired smile. Give me a lover who isn’t afraid to get his hands greasy, who chops garlic like it’s therapy, who knows the difference between feeding and filling.
I don’t want effort that screams. I want flavor that whispers, “I noticed.”
“If you really love someone, don’t just tell them—feed them something that ruins all other meals forever.”
Love Might Not Be Forever, But Seasoning Should Be
And not everyone’s a born chef. That’s cool. You don’t need to handmake pasta from scratch to be a good lover. Sometimes, the most underrated act of affection is knowing what hits right when the soul feels off.
A bottle of hot truffle oil tucked in your pantry. A miso broth that saves dinner and your sanity. The secret stash of chili crisp for when your friend’s going through hell and rice is the only thing she can stomach.
These aren’t random pantry items. These are small, edible love letters.
And just between us? This Chili Crisp has single-handedly saved more relationships than couple’s therapy. Spicy, crunchy, savory with a little hint of “I care.” You throw that over noodles, eggs, rice, or whatever’s in your fridge and suddenly, you’re not just cooking—you’re communicating.
Also, this Miso Broth Concentrate? Let’s just say it understands you better than your last situationship.
Don’t overthink it. Keep the good stuff in reach, and let it speak for you when words fall flat.
Food isn’t just about sustenance. It’s about significance.
If you’ve ever felt full in a way that wasn’t about calories but connection, then you already know what I’m talking about. And if you haven’t? Maybe you’ve been looking for love in all the wrong languages.
Sometimes, it doesn’t sound like “I love you.”
It sizzles. It simmers. It melts in your mouth.
Turns out, my love language was just really good food.
And I don’t plan on translating it anytime soon.
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