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Become a Cozy Cooker 🥹🍄‍🟫

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Why I Don’t Believe in “Quick Meals” Anymore

Chopping board with sliced carrots, potatoes, and parsnips in a sunlit kitchen. Steaming pot on stove, cozy morning mood. Cozy kitchen counter with a cutting board and chopped vegetables in soft light, a calm alternative to quick meals.

There was a time when I believed cooking had to be fast to be worth it.


Five-minute meals. One-pan dinners. “Dinner in under 15 minutes.”

Every recipe felt like it was racing me. And honestly, my life already felt like that.


I was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, creatively.

And somehow, cooking, something that should feel grounding, started to feel like another task to survive.


Scrolling through recipes didn’t inspire me anymore. It stressed me out.


Everything was about shortcuts, hacks, speed, productivity.

And I kept asking myself the same question over and over again:


When did cooking stop being about care?



Burnout Didn’t Start in the Kitchen, But It Showed Up There ✨


Cozy kitchen scene with dim light over a sink filled with plates and utensils. Potted plant, jars, and a white cup on the wooden counter. Dim cozy kitchen with a few dishes and a mug on the counter, capturing the heaviness that quick meals cannot fix.

I didn’t quit quick meals because they’re bad.I quit them because they mirrored how burned out I felt.


My days were packed. My brain was always on. My body never slowed down.And then I’d get to the kitchen and rush through it too.


Eat fast. Clean fast. Move on.


But food remembers how you treat it.

And so does your body.


I noticed that even when I ate “good” meals, something was missing.


There was no pause. No ritual. No presence.


Just fuel.



Slowing Down Became a Form of Self-Care 🧺


Hands rinsing rice in a white bowl under a kitchen faucet. Sunlight streams through a window, illuminating green potted plants. Hands rinsing rice in a ceramic bowl by a sunny window, slow and intentional.

At some point, I stopped asking “How fast can I make this?”

And started asking “How does this feel while I make it?”


That’s when everything changed.


Washing rice slowly.

Chopping vegetables without a timer.

Letting aromas fill the house instead of rushing to plate.


Cooking became quiet again.


Not silent.

Intentional.


And that’s when cozy cooking entered my life. Not as a trend, but as a response.



Cozy Cooking Is Not About Productivity 🍄‍🟫


Black pot on stove with steam rising, surrounded by white tiles. Timer reads 20 min; wooden spoon on counter. Sunlight streams in. A pot gently simmering on the stove with steam rising, kitchen time moving without urgency.

This is the part no one talks about.


Cozy cooking is not efficient.

It’s not optimized.

It doesn’t care about beating the clock.


Cozy cooking is resistance.


It’s choosing to stay with a process instead of escaping it.

It’s allowing food to take time in a world that demands speed from everything.


When you slow down in the kitchen, you’re telling yourself:


I don’t need to rush to be worthy of care.


That’s powerful.



The Kitchen Became My Slow Space 🤍


Jars of grains and spices on wooden shelves, citrus slices drying next to a lit candle, creating a warm, rustic kitchen scene. Open shelves with glass jars and citrus peels drying on parchment paper, warm and lived in.

Now, the kitchen is where I come back to myself.


It’s where jars live quietly on shelves.

Where leftovers are respected.

Where ingredients are understood, not just used.


Sometimes I’m not even cooking a full meal.

Sometimes I’m dehydrating citrus peels.

Sometimes I’m cooking rice with intention, knowing it’ll turn into something else later.


Nothing feels wasted.

Nothing feels rushed.


And that feeling stays with me long after I eat.



If You’re Tired, Maybe It’s Not You 🤍


Bowl of rice with a spoon on a wooden table by a window. Open notebook, papers, and mug nearby. Sunlit, calm atmosphere. Quiet kitchen table with a simple bowl and spoon, soft light and a rested mood.

If cooking feels overwhelming.If quick meals don’t even bring relief anymore.

If food feels empty instead of nourishing.


Maybe it’s not that you’re doing it wrong.


Maybe you just need permission to slow down.


Not every meal needs to be fast.Some meals need to be felt.



If This Resonates, You’ll Love This Too 🍋✨


Jar of dried citrus slices on a wooden board, beside a mug and cloth. Sunlit kitchen with potted plants in the background, warm and calm mood. Glass jar of dehydrated lime slices on a wooden board, cozy and preserved with care.

If this way of cooking speaks to you, I really recommend reading




It’s not just about dehydrating citrus.

It’s about preserving time, intention, and flavor.

The same philosophy, just in a jar.



A Few Cozy Tools That Support Slow Cooking 🧺


Rustic kitchen scene with a wooden cutting board, knife, apron, and spices in jars. Sunlight bathes the countertop, creating a cozy vibe. Cutting board, knife, jars, parchment paper, and zester arranged casually on a counter in natural light.

You don’t need much, but these are the kinds of things that quietly support this lifestyle:



None of these are about speed.They’re about presence.



Rustic kitchen with a lit candle on a wooden counter, next to a stovetop with a black pot. Warm lighting creates a cozy ambiance. Candlelit kitchen scene with a pot cooling on the stove, warm and slow at the end of the day.

Final Thought About Quick Meals 🤍🍄‍🟫


I don’t believe in quick meals anymore.

Not because they’re wrong, but because I needed something deeper.


Cooking slowly gave me space when I didn’t know where else to find it.


If you’re craving that too, welcome.

You’re already doing it right.


💛If this spoke to you, share it with someone who’s tired of rushing.

And if you want more slow, intentional kitchen thoughts, subscribe to become a cozy cooker.



I send weekly ideas, not to overwhelm you, but to remind you to slow down

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