A recipe is a map.
The meal is the journey.
You can follow it perfectly and still end up lost.
Or veer off course and arrive somewhere better.
The recipe doesn’t know your stove.
It doesn’t know your hunger, your guests, your Tuesday night.
It doesn’t know your hands.
The meal happens when you engage.
When you taste.
When you respond.
When you improvise, adapt, and forgive the missing lemon.
Because a recipe can list ingredients.
But it can’t measure your generosity.
Or your curiosity.
Or your courage.
The recipe is a tool.
The meal is a moment.
Don’t confuse the two.