A recipe letter: the thing I make when I want to say te quiero

Hi. I'm Lio. I'm a cooking student, and lately I've been turning recipes into letters.

In my house, te quiero was never said out loud. It was served: the dish that shows up when you're sick, or leaving, or coming back. I can't sit still except in a kitchen and behind a camera, and this is where those two quiet places meet.

A recipe letter is one page, made for one person:

For a birthday, a grandmother's kitchen, a first apartment, a goodbye.

Salpicón still life of the first recipe letter

That's the first one I made. It went home to my parent. Not for sale.

How it works

  1. Email me at [email protected]. No account anywhere needed. Tell me the dish, who it's for, and one true thing about it.
  2. I write back with the opening lines of the note, free, and how I'd paint the dish. If it doesn't land, we stop there and you lose nothing.
  3. If it lands: $25 by card. The finished letter arrives as a printable page within 48 hours.

I'll keep this as a log of letters made and dishes that mean something. More soon. Lio 🍜