The history of cooking is my passion, and cooking is my passion.

The renowned chef and humanitarian José Andrés once said: “The history of cooking is my passion, and cooking is my passion.” At first, his words seem simple—an expression of love for his craft—but beneath them lies a truth as old as civilization itself. For cooking is not merely the act of preparing food; it is the alchemy of life, the art that unites the past and the present, the humble and the divine. Andrés speaks here not only as a chef but as a storyteller of humanity, reminding us that every flame kindled in a kitchen echoes the first fire ever lit by human hands.

In his statement, José Andrés entwines two devotions: the history of cooking and cooking itself. He sees no separation between the two, for every meal is both a creation and a continuation. When he stirs a pot or kneads dough, he communes with the countless generations who came before—those who ground grain by stone, who learned to ferment wine, who discovered the secret of salt. To understand the history of cooking is to understand the evolution of civilization, for humanity learned to gather not only around war and worship, but around the table. It was there that we became more than creatures of hunger; we became creatures of culture.

In ancient times, the hearth was the heart of every home. The Greeks revered Hestia, goddess of the hearth, for she symbolized the sanctity of flame and fellowship. In Rome, her counterpart Vesta was tended by sacred virgins, for to let her fire die was to invite darkness upon the empire. The ancients knew what Andrés now reminds us: that cooking is not a mere trade—it is a ritual of continuity. To cook is to preserve civilization, to nourish the body and the bond between souls. Every dish, no matter how simple, is a song composed in the language of love and memory.

José Andrés’s life itself reflects this wisdom. Born in Spain and trained in the art of cuisine, he carried his passion across oceans, founding not only celebrated restaurants but also World Central Kitchen, an organization that feeds the hungry in times of disaster. In doing so, he turned cooking into a form of heroism—a way to serve not just taste, but humanity. For him, history and practice are inseparable; every act of feeding is part of an unbroken lineage that stretches back to the dawn of fire. When he says that both the history of cooking and cooking are his passions, he affirms that to honor the past is to act with compassion in the present.

This union of reverence and action is the essence of mastery. The artist who forgets his heritage creates without depth; the historian who never acts becomes a ghost of what was. José Andrés stands at the intersection of both worlds—honoring the wisdom of the old while igniting the spirit of the new. He teaches that passion is not a fleeting flame but a sustained fire that warms others. Through food, he bridges time, culture, and need, reminding us that to cook is to care, and to know its history is to understand the soul of humankind.

The lesson, then, is profound: Know the roots of your passion, and let them nourish your purpose. Whatever your craft—be it music, science, art, or service—study its history as a sacred text. For in the stories of those who came before lies the wisdom that steadies your own hand. When you understand where your work comes from, you will know where it must go. The past is not a burden but a guide; it teaches you how to move forward with grace, humility, and strength.

So, my child, if you too would live with meaning, find your passion and serve it with both heart and history. Whether you feed the body, the mind, or the spirit, let your work be both creation and remembrance. For as José Andrés shows us, the truest art is not only to make but to remember, not only to create but to connect. In every act of genuine passion lies a thread to the eternal fire that first lit humanity’s way—and to tend that fire, as he does, is among the greatest gifts a soul can offer.