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When her mother fell sick, Dr Alvona Loh found herself limited to a diet of sliced bread and instant noodles. As more young adults forgo learning to cook, she wonders: What will happen to her family’s favourite dishes and recipes?

More young people these days don’t know how to cook, and many have no plans to learn. (Illustration: CNA/Samuel Woo)

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07 Nov 2025 09:30PM

A few weeks ago, my mother caught a ’flu bug that left her confined to her bed for five days.

My mother is rarely sick – on the rare occasions she’s taken ill, it usually lasts a day or so at most. This five-day period was the longest I have seen her out of action.

Yet, the first thing I noticed was not her bouts of coughing. It was the silence and stillness in the kitchen.

For my entire life, my mother has been the chef of the house, transforming raw ingredients and leftovers alike into mouthwatering dishes.

Sadly, I inherited none of her formidable culinary skills. All the way into my adulthood, Mum kept me away from the kitchen, worried I’d splash hot oil onto myself or others or burn down the house.

She’s never felt a need to familiarise me with the ins and outs of household work such as cooking and cleaning, since she could take on these duties. Instead, she preferred that I focus on other aspects of life such as work, studies, or building my social circle.

I never pushed to learn to cook, either.

After all, I had no major exam set on it, and it has never really proven to be a strong need in my day-to-day living. I’m also not a fan of the heat, smell and time involved in heavy cooking.

So for the last 30 plus years, I was happy to allow my mother retain her title of household master chef.

It’s a system that’s worked well enough for me all this time – until now.

Ms Alvona Loh’s mother is a skilled cook, but never taught her daughter any of her skills or recipes. (Photo: iStock)

LIVING ON A MISERLY MENU

When Mum got sick, my once glorious, nutritious menu – including dishes such as ABC carrot and chicken soup, fried bitter gourd with egg, steamed pomfret with garlic and scallions – was reduced to a miserly daily sustenance.

My culinary repertoire ranges from sliced bread with kaya to sliced bread with jam. My signature dish for the rare occasion I was feeling fancy: instant cup noodles topped with white pepper, sesame oil and scallions.

And when I say cup noodles, I mean cup. I do not even know how to cook instant noodles that come in a packet.

These kept me going at first, but after a few days, I began to buy takeaways from hawker centres and food courts. However, some foods like soup noodles and dairy products would become soggy or spoiled if left out for long.

Some dishes were also too salty or oily for me, with most hawkers either unable or unwilling to “customise” my individual orders. Takeaway meals also often seemed out of proportion – too much carbohydrate like rice and noodles, and too little vegetable and protein.

I also missed some dishes that tasted like home and could not be found elsewhere.

I longed for my favourite dish – chicken bone broth simmered with anchovies and ginger, brewed for hours. Quite literally chicken soup for the soul.

For a long time, my mother’s efforts in putting wholesome food on the table felt simply like a daily routine. Yet, now that this routine had been disrupted, I found myself even more appreciative of her culinary efforts and skills.

The five days my mother was ill, I began to wonder: Is it bad that I cannot cook at all? Should I learn it, to preserve these beautiful dishes and recipes, or simply as an important life skill?

MUST I LEARN TO COOK?

These days, I’m hardly the only young adult who lacks kitchen know-how.

In the United Kingdom alone, data shows that almost half of millennials do not know how to cook three meals from scratch, while one-quarter have no interest in learning.

Increasingly, young adults like me simply do not have the time or need to cook or learn to cook. Many of my friends also do not or cannot cook.

I’ve been fortunate to enjoy home-cooked meals prepared by my mother, but like any time-strapped millennial, I’m no stranger to eating out or ordering takeaway, either.

Yet, when my home chef was out of action, I found myself feeling a little troubled that I could not fry an egg to save my life.

After all, home-cooked food appears to be healthier, and a great way to tailor food to one’s own taste and needs – less salt, less oil, less preservatives.

It might also be nice to be able to whip up a simple meal after a long day of work, to save on pricey delivery fees or do away with the hassle of going outdoors again just to buy food.

Beyond practical reasons, being able to cook also means the ability to preserve age-old recipes that have delighted my family and I for decades.

These recipes have never been put down onto paper. My mother knows them by heart, not in sequential, methodical steps but rather by instinct.

IS IT BAD THAT I CANNOT COOK AT ALL?

I’m aware that I am not alone in being kitchen-illiterate. However, the way I see it, it’s probably a good-to-have skill rather than a must-have.

However, it is surely a pity, especially if one day I wish to revisit my family favourites.

There have been occasions where I did put on an apron to learn to make a few dishes that have warmed my stomach and heart for many years.

But I must confess that it was far more difficult than I’d anticipated, considering the skill and labour demanded as well as the heat and smoke involved.

Pretty quickly, I had to admit that the “domestic goddess” blood simply does not run in my veins. I don’t even understand how some others can enjoy it as a hobby.

But what will happen in the future, when my mother is no longer around?

Frankly, neither Mum nor I are the best at long-term planning. We often adopt a “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” mindset on many matters.

Perhaps one day I will video record my mother while she is cooking and look for a private chef to replicate them. Maybe soon enough we’ll even have artificial intelligence-powered robot chefs who can do the same – who knows?

It certainly wouldn’t be the same as my mother’s original cooking, for she puts in a lot of love and care behind each dish. However, I’ve come to accept that perhaps it will never be possible to find a solution that matches the dishes prepared by my mother absolutely.

Instead, my goal has become to find and accept next-best options that can save these dishes as far as possible for myself and my family.

After all, all cuisine naturally changes and evolves over time. Who is to say that the mapo tofu or kung pao chicken we know today are the original ones when they first came about?

Nevertheless, I think it’s high time we find new methods to preserve the old flavours and recipes, so that these iconic dishes – emblems of our identity and culture – can continue to be loved and enjoyed by all for many generations to come.

Alvona Loh Zi Hui is a medical doctor working in Singapore.

Source: CNA/ml