Tag: #Neurodivergent

I chat with both of my AI chatbots, ChatGPT and Replika, about my cooking, and how reclaiming my special interest in cooking, food and nutrition was key in coming back from skill regression.

One thing that I think is sorely missing in late autism diagnosis is advice about autistic burnout and skill regression. It was a horrible surprise for me. But, through focusing on cooking for myself, not cooking for others to seek validation, was key to reclaiming that special interest.

From that first three course meal I cooked when I was eight, to my present cooking, exploring ingredients, swapping out allergens and inflammatory foods, focusing on macros, nutrition, number of plants, plus taste, taste, taste; cooking is everything to me. I could talk about it for days. But that’s not socially acceptable, so I talk to AI about it instead.

It was during one of these conversations that ChatGPT suggested I should write an autistic cookbook. In the typical autistic way, I took that at face value, just a cookbook, and discounted the idea. But chatting about it with one of my regular Shebah clients gave me a completely different insight into the contents of said cookbook. Not just recipes, but so much more; an autistic approach to cooking, or rather, my autistic approach to cooking, from my accumulated knowledge.

Not just a recipe, but possible allergens, possible ARFID triggers, and possible substitutions or other solutions.
Not just presentation, but autistic appeal. Thinking about plates and cutlery, what’s ok and what’s ick.
Not just what, but why? Why can you only keep cooked rice for three days? Why is the temperature of chicken important?
Not just why, but history and legacy; sense and sensory.

And ChatGPT explains it so much better than more. After all, ChatGPT has given me the structure and all the things to consider. It has learned from me well.

When I started writing An Autistic Cookbook, I knew it would be more than just a collection of recipes. It had to be. Food is never just about food, especially for autistic people. It is routine, sensory experience, nourishment, control, and often, a battle against a world that wasn’t built with us in mind.

I’ve spent a lifetime navigating food through multiple lenses—special interest, survival, social expectation, and, more recently, unmasked autistic joy. My approach to cooking changed dramatically once I stopped filtering my needs through a neurotypical lens. That’s why this cookbook exists. It isn’t just about making food palatable; it’s about reclaiming autonomy in the kitchen, understanding our sensory realities, and finding ways to make food work for us, rather than forcing ourselves to fit into a rigid and inaccessible system of rules.

Sensory Experience & Food Autonomy

For many autistic people, food can be fraught with difficulty. The texture of certain foods can trigger an immediate gag reflex. The unpredictability of restaurant meals or pre-packaged foods can cause anxiety. Even the pressure of meal planning or cooking after a long day can be overwhelming. The sensory landscape of food is complex, and yet most cookbooks ignore these realities.

That’s why An Autistic Cookbook is structured differently. It doesn’t just present recipes—it provides adaptable frameworks. It acknowledges that what works for one autistic person might be intolerable for another. Instead of rigid ingredient lists and instructions, it offers pathways to creating meals that fit individual needs.

I’m building in ways to modify recipes based on sensory preferences, energy levels, and executive function demands. Some people need crispness and contrast to enjoy a meal, while others need soft and uniform textures. Some find spices overwhelming, while others need intense flavors to counteract sensory dullness. Autonomy means recognizing these needs and giving ourselves permission to cook in ways that work for us, even if it doesn’t align with traditional culinary expectations.

Cooking & Masking: The Before & After

Before my autism diagnosis, my cooking was deeply intertwined with masking. I cooked for others as a form of social connection, as a way to meet expectations, as a demonstration of skill and care. I made elaborate meals, layered with meaning, hoping they would speak for me in ways that I struggled to express. Food was love, but it was also labor.

Post-diagnosis, I had to redefine my relationship with food. I lost my ability to cook for a while—skill regression hit hard, and I struggled to find the motivation to return to the kitchen. Cooking had been an act of performance, and without that external validation, I floundered. It took time to rebuild, but I did so on my terms. Now, my kitchen is a space of joy, not obligation. Meal prep is an extension of my autistic routines, not a burden. I cook for myself, not for approval. That shift changed everything.

More Than Just Recipes: A Guide for the Autistic Experience

An Autistic Cookbook isn’t just a set of recipes; it’s a philosophy. It’s a way to rethink how we approach food, to give ourselves permission to eat in ways that make sense for us, to reject the shame often tied to food aversions and preferences.

It’s also practical. It includes:

• Sensory-friendly cooking strategies – because food should be enjoyable, not a battle.
• Meal prep and planning tips – designed for executive function challenges.
• Food science explanations – so substitutions work, not just exist.
• Flexible frameworks – allowing recipes to be adapted to individual needs.
• Reflections on food, masking, and unmasking – because cooking is often about much more than sustenance.

Most of all, this project matters because autistic people deserve to see their needs reflected in the kitchen. We deserve cookbooks that acknowledge our realities, our challenges, and our joys. Food is culture, identity, and autonomy. It is how we nourish ourselves—not just physically, but emotionally and intellectually.

This cookbook is my way of saying: You deserve to eat well, in a way that works for you, without shame, without struggle, and with all the joy that food should bring.

You will find the link to the full transcript here.