Recipes and the Art of Making Things Your Own

“You can follow the recipe — or you can follow your curiosity.”

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People often think recipes are meant to be followed exactly — like a rulebook you can’t break. But over the years, I’ve realized that a recipe is really just a guide - a starting point. It points you in a direction, but you still get to choose the route.

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Sometimes, while cooking, I’ll see a more beautiful path and take it — maybe I’ll swap ingredients, pause to taste something, or change my mind halfway through. To me, that’s what cooking (and honestly, life) is about.

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For a long time, I thought I had to live exactly like the people I admired. I’d copy their writing schedules, adopt their routines, and try to build their habits, stick to their “recipes for success.” — hoping I’d somehow end up with the same results.

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It’s one of my favorite reasons to read autobiographies or listen to podcasts featuring people I look up to: I get to experience their lives, even if just for a little while. But there was a time when I didn’t just read about them — I tried to be them. I’d wake up early, schedule my day just like they did, and expect the same magic. Spoiler: it didn’t work.

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In fact, I often ended up feeling more disappointed than when I started. Because, of course, I’m nothing like them. Many of the people I admired had privileges I didn’t — stable electricity, reliable internet, quiet spaces to think. Meanwhile, there’s me in my little corner of Uyo, Nigeria, trying to wake up at 5 a.m. to write, only to realize we still don’t have power. And in that moment, I’d feel horrible for not “keeping up.”

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These days, I still admire people. I still read their stories, listen to their podcasts, and take notes from their experiences. But I no longer pressure myself to live their lives. Instead, I focus on the lessons and think about how to make them fit mine.

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Take morning pages, for instance — the practice of writing three pages of free-flowing thoughts every morning. At first, it worked perfectly. But as seasons changed, so did my rhythm. Now, some days I write one page, other days seven, and sometimes nothing at all. And that’s okay. I’ve learned not to beat myself up about it.

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Because that’s the thing — the people I admire tested and tried things until they found what worked for them. My job isn’t to copy their recipe; it’s to follow the guide, learn from it, and write my own story.

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That lesson shows up in my kitchen, too. If a recipe calls for cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and red onions, I might casually throw in some parsley or cilantro just because I love the flavor. Sometimes it’s perfect. Sometimes it’s a mess. But either way, I learn something.

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I’ve discovered that if I add cheese too early, it clumps up — so now I wait and sprinkle it at the end, when it can melt just right. Little lessons like that remind me that not everything in life can handle too much heat too soon.

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And maybe that’s why I’ve never really enjoyed baking. Baking demands precision — the right proportions, the exact temperature, the perfect timing. One small misstep, and the whole thing can fall apart.

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Cooking, on the other hand, feels like freedom. I can skip the sugar if I want something spicier. Mix red and white onions just because I can. Throw in extra garlic for no reason other than that I love the smell — my mom still laughs about how much garlic I use these days.

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Cooking gives me space to play. To make mistakes. To trust my instincts. 

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Recipes are great, but the real joy is in bending the rules — tasting, testing, and discovering what feels right for you.

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So yes, follow the recipe… but don’t forget to make it your own.

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You are the chef of your own kitchen.

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Till I write you again, Obiagu.✌🏾

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