When I was in high school, I would sometimes spend the night at my friend's place in town. No matter what time we got back to my friend's house after a night out, her mom would get up and make us tea and treats. She served piping hot tea from china teapots covered with a knitted cozy. She poured the tea into real china cups (she had several cabinets filled with unique tea cups, and we got to choose which one we used). She served cookies or cakes or toast. She asked us about our evening—never judging us for what we did or what time we came in. It always felt special, nurturing and safe.

I often think of my friend's mom when I serve a little sweet treat in the evening. Tonight, for instance, Mel and I had a cookie when we got home from our weekly ping pong hour. We sat in the kitchen, eating our cookies and chatting about nothing and anything. And then we retreated to our respective rooms to snuggle up in bed.

I realize just how much food serves as the basis of rituals. Almost every morning, Mel and I eat a homemade muffin with nut-and-seed butter and banana while playing the New York Times' Wordle, Mini-Crossword and Connections games. At lunch, Chris, Mel and I often eat leftovers, then Mel and I go for a walk. At supper, we usually eat a meal that Chris or I made that day, and we play Jeopardy. And in the evening, we'll often convene in the kitchen to share a sweet treat and hot beverage. Every occasion of eating together is an opportunity to enjoy good food and a special moment.