Winter is Here: Reflections on My Third Year as a Volunteer Cook

Winter has arrived, marking my third year as a volunteer cook at the homeless shelter. Once or twice a week, I prepare dinners for the residents, ensuring there’s enough for leftovers the next day. But this place isn’t just a shelter—it’s a space of transition, where people carry their stories, struggles, and hopes as they journey toward something better.

For me, cooking here is about more than filling plates; it’s about offering comfort and care. Each meal I prepare is my way of saying, You matter. You’re not alone. It’s a small moment of relief in a world that can often feel overwhelming.

Finding Family in the Kitchen

If someone asked me what volunteering here feels like, I’d say it’s like building a family—one meal at a time. There’s something magical about food; it has a unique way of creating connections.

Coming from an Asian background, I often cook dishes from my culture. At first, I worried the residents might not enjoy or even try the unfamiliar flavors. But over time, I saw curiosity replace hesitation. Now, when I step into the kitchen, they eagerly ask, “Where are you taking us tonight?”

Some nights, we travel to Korea with kimchi fried rice; other times, we explore the flavors of China with stir-fried noodles. The residents have even started recognizing differences between Asian cuisines, sparking conversations about cultures and traditions far beyond the shelter walls.

Food, I’ve realized, is more than sustenance—it’s a bridge. It reminds us all that the world is vast, full of experiences waiting to be discovered.

Memories That Stay with Me

Not every moment in the shelter is lighthearted. Some leave a mark on my heart in ways I can’t fully describe.

I’ll never forget the day we lost a resident who had become a dear friend. She called me her best friend, and we shared countless conversations over the meals I cooked. After her funeral, I returned to the shelter with flowers and prepared dinner in her honor. Her favorite dish was fish, so I made sure it was the centerpiece of that night’s meal.

The dining room was unusually quiet, but there was an unspoken connection in the air—a shared sense of love, loss, and gratitude that drew us closer. Moments like these remind me why I’m here: to offer more than just food, to create a space where people feel seen and valued.

But there are also moments of pure joy. I once watched a love story bloom over my cooking. A man and woman, both residents, bonded over their shared love of Asian cuisine. They’d sit near the kitchen, chatting and laughing as they ate. Over time, their connection deepened, and a few months later, they left the shelter together to start a new chapter in life.

Knowing that my meals played a small role in their love story fills me with hope. In a way, I felt like Cupid with a spatula, and the thought of them still makes my heart full.

More Than a Meal

Cooking at the shelter has taught me that food is about so much more than just eating. It’s about showing someone that they’re cared for and reminding them that there’s still warmth and possibility in the world.

Every dish I prepare carries a little piece of my heart. Through my cooking, I hope to remind people that even in tough times, there’s always something to look forward to—a moment of connection, a taste of comfort, or the possibility of a fresh start.

Volunteering isn’t just about giving; it’s about receiving, too. The people I’ve met here have taught me about resilience, gratitude, and the profound impact of small acts of kindness.

If you’ve ever considered volunteering, I can promise you this: it will change you. It will remind you of what truly matters in life and leave you with a heart fuller than you ever thought possible.