Life Through Messy Bites: From Avoidance to Appetite

 “Messy bites aren’t just about food. They’re the imperfect, honest attempts to nourish yourself when life feels overwhelming - unfiltered, unpolished, but deeply human.”

There’s something deeply human about a messy plate.

Not the curated ones on social media, but the kind you prepare with hesitation, a bit of panic, and maybe a few emergency calls to your mom. The kind that’s not about impressing anyone, but about getting through the day and somehow, finding a little bit of yourself in the process.

Cooking, for most people, is a basic life skill. Just part of daily survival. But for me? It was the one thing I hated the most. Not just because of the effort, but because I always felt like I didn’t know how to get it right. I couldn’t trust myself to score the good taste. Ever since, I avoided it. I kept things simple, ready-made, or ordered. I lived on fry-days, literally. Easy, greasy, and safe. I’d sometimes add fruits on the side for nutritional value, and when I felt like my body needed a break, I’d buy vegetable salads, not out of love for greens, but just for the sake of being healthy. I was never the one behind the stove, and I accepted that as my reality.

But life, as it often does, forced a shift.

Because of health reasons, I had to be more conscious of what I eat. I needed to start making better choices and that meant I had to cook. Even if I didn’t want to. Even if I didn’t know how. Suddenly, cooking became something I had to face.

In the beginning, I used to call my mom a lot, in the middle of grocery shopping, just to ask what ingredients I needed, and even while cooking, unsure of what to do first. She was my lifeline when I had no idea what I was doing.

But as time went by, I started to rely more on my instincts. That’s when I saw a packet of chicken curry seasoning at the grocery store and thought, why not give it a try?

I bought it, thinking it would be simple enough. What I didn’t realize was that I missed an important detail on the packaging, it said to dissolve the curry mix in milk. I didn’t have any. But I had already started, so I just went for it anyway.

My first chicken curry came out without the creamy richness it was supposed to have. It didn’t come out perfect. Actually, not all the ingredients were added, only the chicken and potatoes, since I didn’t like the other vegetables it called for. It was far from the traditional version, but it was made with my taste in mind and that made it feel right. And something about that dish — the process, the struggle, the aroma — felt like reclaiming a part of myself I never knew I needed.

It was, in every sense, a messy bite — imperfect, lacking, but deeply mine.

A few weeks later, I tried again. This time, I made sure to buy coconut milk. I followed the same simple steps, but now the taste was fuller and closer to what I imagined. And while it still wasn’t perfect, it felt like progress. I enjoyed every bite of it. Not just because it tasted better, but because I made it better. Because I tried again.

Not mastery. Not pride. Just a small step forward… with a side of healing.

Every meal I make now isn’t just about nutrition - it’s a reminder that I’m trying. That I’m still here. That even if the flavors are off or the plating is a disaster, I’ve shown up for myself.

And that’s no small thing.

I used to think cooking was something you did when you had it all together. Now I know! It’s something you do when everything feels like it’s falling apart. When you’re forced to slow down. To nourish. To trust yourself, even when you don’t know what you’re doing.

This blog isn’t about recipes or perfect outcomes. It’s a quiet love letter to the ones trying their best. The ones cooking out of necessity, not passion. The ones burning pans, undercooking rice, missing ingredients, messy plating, and still showing up at the table.

Because sometimes, the most nourishing parts of life are the messy bites we almost didn’t make. - MESSY E.

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