The Lost Art of Cooking: Why We’re Losing More Than Just Recipes

There’s something about cooking that seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle of our fast-food, UberEats-driven lives. We’ve swapped slow-cooked meals for microwaved dinners, and while we’ve gained convenience, we’ve lost a whole lot more—like, you know, soul.

Take tamales, for example. Growing up, my grandma's tamales were legendary. They weren’t just food—they were a family event. I remember sitting around the kitchen table with her, laughing, sharing stories, and of course, getting masa all over the place (because who can make tamales without looking like a messy, joyful disaster?). But here’s the thing—I never worked with my aunt to learn the full recipe.

I also had an aunt who made legendary tamales, and our family could eat them by the dozen. My aunt and I were more like tolerant acquaintances than tamale-making partners, so I missed out on those all-important kitchen lessons. Fast forward to today, and I can’t find the ingredients I jotted down. And just like that, poof—a part of my family’s food history is gone.

One funny moment that stands out when thinking about my grandma’s cooking was when she tried to show me how to measure out lard with her hand. Back then, there were no fancy measurements—it was all about feeling. The only problem? My hand was double the size of hers. We laughed so hard, she couldn’t even speak, especially with two massively different measurements of lard as we compared hands.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I still have a few recipes from my grandma that I cherish. When I make them, it’s like she’s right there with me, probably laughing at how badly I butchered her technique. But I get it—the love, the connection, the memories—they all come back. And I’m forever grateful for those moments in the kitchen.

But here's the kicker: We’re not just losing recipes. We’re losing the experience. The laughs, the mess, the “don’t touch the pot, you’ll burn yourself” warnings. Cooking with family isn’t just about the end result (okay, maybe it is sometimes, especially when you're making that perfect tamale). It’s about the time spent together, the traditions passed down, and the memories baked into every dish.

One dish that’s made its way from my grandma’s kitchen to mine is her Malt-O-Meal. It wasn’t just breakfast—it was the start of every good day. I’ve passed it on to my daughter, and it feels like a little piece of grandma is with us, every single time I make this, especially during winter.

It makes me a little sad to think about how much of this we’re losing. Maybe it’s because I was my grandma’s self-proclaimed favorite grandkid, so, of course, I think I should have been given the exclusive tamale masterclass—but alas, here I am, with just a few memories and a messy kitchen to show for it.

So, let’s talk about this: Why is cooking with family becoming a lost art? Is it because we’re all too busy or because the thought of getting our hands dirty in the kitchen is less glamorous than posting food pics on Instagram? Whatever the reason, let’s not forget the beauty of a home-cooked meal. It’s not just about ingredients—it’s about the memories we’re making while we cook them. And, honestly, if I could go back in time, I’d make a whole lot more tamales with my grandma, messy kitchen and all.

What’s your favorite memory connected to a family recipe or tradition? Let’s make sure the next generation isn’t just getting recipes—they’re getting the memories too.

TODAY’S THE DAY: Here’s an idea to get you started—act today. Pick a family recipe that’s been passed down or one that you want to start making memories with. Whether it's something as simple as your grandma’s Malt-O-Meal or a new dish you want to try, gather your loved ones and make it together. No fancy tools required—just your hands, your love, and a little laughter. If you can, ask someone to write down the steps, or better yet, take a video of everyone cooking together. Trust me, a few years from now, you’ll look back and treasure that video even more than the dish itself.