I’ve been an enthusiastic home cook for most of my life, but I have a confession: I still rely on many of the same habits and rituals my mother used when I was growing up.

Even now, as a sixty-something who’s watched countless cooking shows and flicked through recipe blogs, I still find myself gravitating toward the methods she passed down.

There’s something comforting about them—a kind of gentle reverence for the tastes and smells that filled our house on any given afternoon.

Over the years, I’ve realized I’m not the only one who does this. Friends, neighbors, even some of you reading this—many of us still cling to the “old ways” in our kitchen.

From my perspective, there’s a simple reason for it: nostalgia is powerful.

And cooking can be one of the most direct routes back to our childhood or to simpler times.

Below, I’ll share six rituals that you likely practice too if you’re still cooking “just like mom used to.”

And don’t worry, there’s no judgment here. In fact, I think embracing these habits can do more than just fill your plate—they can fill your heart.

Let’s dig in.

1. Reaching for the same old family recipe book

Whenever I decide to bake an apple pie, I don’t type “apple pie recipe” into a search bar.

Instead, I open Mom’s recipe book—a battered old binder with yellowed index cards peeking out of every corner.

There’s something about reading her handwriting, little notes she jotted down like “Add more cinnamon if your dad’s eating!” that transports me right back to our warm, bustling kitchen.

If you’re anything like me, you probably have your own stash of family recipes that never fail.

It might be the handwritten card you keep tucked in a kitchen drawer or that mental recipe you know by heart because you’ve watched it come to life so many times.

That’s a testament to how we hold onto tradition—not just for flavor, but for the meaning behind every measurement of sugar or dash of spice.

2. Taste-testing at every stage

I remember sneaking spoonfuls of sauce straight from the pot when I was a kid, just to see if it had “enough flavor.”

My mother would swat my hand away playfully, then do the exact same thing herself, all the while saying, “Cooking is all about tasting.”

Even now, I taste my food constantly. A pinch of salt here, a dash of pepper there.

If you find yourself sampling your stew halfway through, you’re probably channeling your mom’s spirit in the kitchen.

Moms from an older generation seemed to know that taste-testing gave them a chance to tweak the recipe and ensure each bite was just right.

It’s a hands-on approach that doesn’t rely on fancy gadgets or measuring tools.

It relies on instinct, your senses, and a bit of that intangible kitchen wisdom—something you can’t buy in stores.

You can have the perfect recipe on paper, but if you don’t taste along the way, you won’t know if that recipe’s really working.

Tasting is our way of checking the “results,” moment by moment.

3. Cooking in bulk and sharing with others

Growing up, my house always smelled like a feast was about to happen—even if it was just a regular Tuesday night.

Mom had this tradition of cooking massive pots of soup or casserole and then portioning them out to neighbors or freezing them for later.

If someone had a new baby, got sick, or just needed cheering up, they could expect a delivery of Mom’s famous stew or lasagna.

I still do this. It’s a way of saying, “I care,” and it’s also a bit of a safeguard for those hectic days when you want a home-cooked meal but don’t have the time to start from scratch.

If you’re in the habit of cooking more than you need—so you can share or freeze for future busy nights—you’ve likely inherited this communal mindset from your mom.

In a previous post here on the Global English Editing blog, I talked about how acts of service can strengthen community ties, and I still stand by that.

Home-cooked meals are one of the most tangible forms of kindness.

Whenever I whip up a pot of chili and drop off a container for a friend, I feel like I’m passing along not just food, but a piece of my childhood traditions.

4. Adding a “secret ingredient”

When I was young, Mom would often whisper that she had a “secret ingredient” in her cooking—something she claimed no one else used.

Sometimes it was a spoonful of sugar in spaghetti sauce; other times, it was a particular herb for her roast chicken.

When I asked why she did it, she’d just shrug and say, “That’s how my mother did it.”

If you still cook like your mom, you probably have your own secret ingredient, too—something you toss in for luck or for that extra “oomph.”

Of course, the real magic isn’t in the sugar or the herb itself; it’s in the ritual.

You’re preserving a family tradition, even if it’s as simple as adding a dash more pepper than most recipes call for.

Whether it’s stirring your soup clockwise exactly three times or sprinkling in a special spice at a certain moment, these little acts bond us to the past and make the present moment feel more meaningful.

5. Using what’s on hand to create something delicious

“How can you cook without all the exact ingredients?” I once asked my mother when I noticed she’d replaced cheddar with Swiss in her macaroni dish.

She smiled and said, “If I only cooked when I had everything perfectly lined up, we’d rarely eat!”

Moms of previous generations were masters of improvisation.

They’d open the fridge, see half an onion, some leftover chicken, and maybe a handful of carrots, and somehow conjure up a meal that made you want seconds.

If you still cook this way—using whatever you’ve got rather than running to the store every time you’re missing a single ingredient—you’ve likely absorbed that thrifty, resourceful spirit.

I’m no know-it-all, but I can say from experience that cooking “a little of this, a little of that” not only helps reduce food waste, but it also encourages creativity in the kitchen.

Some of my favorite recipes have come from spontaneous substitutions.

If Mom taught you that cooking is part resourcefulness, part skill, and part love, you’re carrying a torch that goes back generations.

6. Setting the table for a real sit-down meal

My mother firmly believed in the power of a shared meal. Every night at around six, she’d call us to the table.

No TV, no distractions—just the family, real conversations, and a warm meal.

Now, even though life can be more chaotic these days with different schedules and obligations, I still try to honor that principle: setting the table and eating together with whoever happens to be around.

Brené Brown once wrote, “Connection is why we’re here; it is what gives purpose and meaning to our lives.”

I suspect our mothers intuited this long before Brown ever put it into words.

By creating a ritual out of the simple act of sitting down together, we build connection.

It’s not about fancy tablecloths or matching plates; it’s about being present in that moment, sharing food and stories, and pausing from the chaos of the outside world—if only for half an hour.

If you still make a point of gathering for dinner, or at least for weekend lunches, you’re preserving a practice that has psychological and emotional benefits.

Studies have shown that regular family meals can boost a child’s sense of security and belonging.

Even if your “children” are now grown or if it’s just you and a spouse, that time spent at the table fosters closeness and sets a comforting rhythm to daily life.

Final thoughts

So, are these six cooking rituals all too familiar? I might be biased, but I think there’s a reason these habits stick around.

They ground us. In a world where everything seems to be “instant” or “on-demand,” pulling out your mom’s old recipe or tasting sauce by the spoonful can feel like a sweet return to a time when life was less rushed.

And honestly, it also feels good to know that we’re passing something down, consciously or not, to our own kids and grandkids.

When they see us cooking in this old-school way, they learn that meals are more than just sustenance—they’re vessels for memories, love, and togetherness.

In my own household, my grandchildren often roll their eyes when I say, “Try it and tell me if it needs more salt.”

But you know what? They do it anyway.

Then they give me their verdict, and together, we tweak the dish. It’s a small but significant bonding moment, echoing the many times I did the same with my own mom.

Sometimes, it’s these small, repetitive acts that create a family’s collective story.

I won’t pretend to have it all figured out, but one thing I do know is that cooking like our mothers used to is about more than following a recipe; it’s about following a tradition.

It’s about remembering how those old kitchens smelled of pies, stews, and fresh bread, and how those aromas seemed to dissolve our worries—if even for a moment.

Now, I’ll leave you with this question: What’s one cooking ritual you’ve kept alive from your mom’s kitchen?

If you haven’t done it recently, maybe give it a whirl. Try that old recipe, taste as you go, and set out a real sit-down meal—even if it’s just for yourself or a friend.

It might remind you that in the midst of our busy lives, there’s still magic to be found in a warm pot of soup and the memories it holds.

And if you ask me, that’s a ritual worth preserving.