During a challenging time when my son had COVID-19, a friend reached out to see if I needed anything — perhaps a cake? I gladly accepted, and she showed up with a massive slice of mud cake topped with creamy chocolate ganache. I cut off a small piece to taste, then another, and before I knew it, I had shared a large portion with my husband and kids too. Technically, I never really had a slice to call my own.
Later, she mentioned that the cake was overbaked and dry, and the ganache was her attempt to salvage it. This made her gesture even more heartwarming — she brought us an IMPERFECT cake!
I truly appreciate the charm of imperfection and the idea of lowering expectations. If she hadn’t done so, I would have missed out on that delightful treat — a clear reminder that perfection can hinder enjoyment.
This principle resonates with me — both in cooking and in life. I love cooking, and I’m passionate about sharing meals with friends during tough times. However, as a mother of three primary school-aged children, juggling two jobs, volunteering, and maintaining a social life, time is often not on my side. When I can, I make (yes, imperfect!) cookies, cakes, and even fresh pasta, but there are many days when I simply can’t.
My perspective on cooking changed when I was on the receiving end of meal rosters after each of my children was born. I quickly learned that I wouldn’t have endless hours to cook, as babies don’t just sleep and smile. When meals started arriving from our church community, we accepted them gratefully, albeit a bit desperately.
I’m not saying the food we received wasn’t great — it likely was. I just know that we would have appreciated it regardless of its quality.
I often remind myself of this when cooking for others. If my stir fry has veggies that are “a little” overcooked (okay, maybe a lot), or if my quiche could use more cheese, I still hesitate before sharing. I must remember that when life feels overwhelming, the act of giving and the energy saved for a friend outweighs my concerns about presentation or taste. So, I’ve learned to offer my cooking as it is, with all its imperfections.
There’s a certain truth to the idea that food tastes better when it’s not made by you. A friend once recalled a “very tasty” green chicken curry I made for her, only to discover it came from a packet. Another time, I gave a family a chunk of frozen bolognese and a packet of pasta from my pantry. The mom later told me that the meal brought her to tears — not because it was bad (though it might have been), but because she was exhausted and deeply touched by the gesture.
It seems that in times of stress and chaos, B-grade baking is truly an A-grade gift. Cooking is about care and timing, not perfection — and the same goes for giving.
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- How to support a friend with meals
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In summary, when life gets overwhelming, providing a little food — even if it’s not perfect — can mean the world to a struggling friend. It’s the thought that counts, and the love behind the gesture shines brighter than any culinary perfection.
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