How To Cook Traditional Kurdish Dishes?

Asha, an orphan at a young age, is now on the brink of helplessness and despair. Would she let despair to chase her for the rest of her life? No, thus, she faces the man who wants her dead and dares to stand as a woman in the world of male chefs. She creates her own dishes and makes his father's recipes alive again. Her adventures lead to clues of her father's real killer and get entangles with love at the same time. Somehow, when she is face to face with the murderer, will she forgive or not? The Recipe of Love will show her the right decision to make.

Even though I knew cows were sacred to the Indorians, I still supported their biological daughter in her plan to serve beef at the dinner table of Indoria's wealthiest man. In my previous life, the wealthiest man in Indoria had held a nationwide contest to choose a wife. My sister had fought her way to the final round and planned to make a beef and veggie stew for the ultimate cooking challenge. I rushed to stop her, warning that in Indoria's religion, cows were considered holy, and eating beef could have serious legal consequences. However, my sister thought I was deliberately humiliating her for being "uncultured." In a fit of anger, she ran out, only to be struck and killed by a car. My adoptive parents tried to console me, telling me it was not my fault, that it was simply bad luck. Later, thanks to my exceptional cooking skills, I became the wife of Indoria's wealthiest man. Yet on the very day of my wedding, my adoptive parents sold me to the slums. That night, as eight men assaulted me one after another, I cried and demanded to know why. They kicked me viciously and spat: "If you hadn't made things difficult for Janet, she wouldn't have died. You owe her this!" By the end of that night, I had bled to death. Meanwhile, my adoptive parents used the money given by Indoria's wealthiest man to build a lavish tomb for their biological daughter. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my sister was about to serve her beef and veggie stew to Indoria's wealthiest man.

I rented a house with a bloody history because it was cheap. On the first night after moving in, the faucet turned on by itself. I yelled into thin air, “Are you paying the water bill?!” The water instantly stopped flowing. I thought that was just the beginning of the ghost not bothering me. Unexpectedly, the next day, I saw a main course with two side dishes prepared on the dining table.

After being chosen by a horror game, I took over a food stall in a small town. A ghoul tried to eat me, his huge, bloody mouth a gaping maw, but I quickly shoved a focaccia sandwich into it. He chewed and then said, “Oh, forget it. With food to eat, I’ll kill her tomorrow.” The next day, I made delicious pierogies, then skewers and stews. All the ghouls who stopped by gave up on trying to kill me, focusing on eating instead. The audience watching me was shocked that I could survive all the way to the end with just my cooking.

While studying abroad, I move into a shared apartment. Not a single day goes by without my housemate, Stuart Harper, calling himself some variation of a sweet, brave, and responsible guy. On the very first day he moves in, he hires workers to take out the insulation from the walls. I confront him about it, but he simply grins at me and proudly boasts about his decision. "That was all just some shoddy foam that the construction workers padded the walls with. Not only was it useless, but it was even taking up so much space. The fact that I forked out my own money to get rid of it proves that I'm such a sweet and responsible guy!" With a scowl on my face, I explain to Stuart the purpose of having proper insulation. He immediately leans in close with an admiring gaze. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea! I just wanted to do something nice for us. What should I do now? You have to help me think of something!" I naively assume Stuart just lacks common sense and doesn't act with malice. Thus, I willingly enter into a cycle of always cleaning up after his messes. One day, I get a fever. He ends up buying a secondhand electric slow cooker and declares he's going to take care of me by cooking me soup. My head throbs as I quickly put a stop to his attempt to heat the electric slow cooker on the induction stove. I tell him to let me catch a nap before I teach him how to cook later. But not long after I fall asleep, he secretly sticks the electric slow cooker into the microwave to heat it up. The microwave explodes. As the flames start to spread, Stuart screams and dashes out of the apartment at once. The fire alarm wakes me up. I try to evacuate the burning building, only to find that Stuart has locked the door from the outside. In the end, the fire burns me to a crisp. After that, however, he starts twisting things around. He goes online and says with a helpless expression, "My housemate set the apartment on fire while cooking. I'm the one who had to call the fire department on his behalf, and I even had to compensate the landlord for him. I'm definitely the sweetest, bravest, and most responsible guy to ever live!" As the online community proceeds to condemn me, Stuart uses the attention and publicity to go viral as a content creator. Some time later, my eyes open again. This time, I'm going to roast him good.

After I graduate from college, my uncle, Malcolm Caldwell, convinces my family to chip in and open a seafood restaurant. Dad and I wholeheartedly agree with his suggestion. Since then, we work as the restaurant's cooks. Five years later, our seafood restaurant becomes the top restaurant on the city's Must-Eat List. Our monthly profits hit more than 200 grand. On the day the earnings are to be split among us, Uncle Malcolm pockets 150 grand. Then, he passes 150 grand each to my cousins, Maxwell and Melanie Caldwell. The remaining sum, which is less than eight grand, is handed over to Dad and me. When faced with our questions, Uncle Malcolm adapts a matter-of-fact tone. "Max is in charge of dealing with the customers. He has suffered a lot just by having to deal with so many fussy customers every day. "Mel is the one in charge of the finances. She's worked so hard calculating every cent in the profits that we've earned." Then, Uncle Malcolm turns to look at us. "As for you two, all you do is hide in the kitchen all day. I bet you two have secretly taken many bites out of the customers' food all these years, right? "Since we're relatives and all, I shall not hold you accountable. How about this? If you two work hard, I'll make sure to reward you well if our profits double again next month." Dad is so furious that he's practically shaking. But I just hold his hand calmly and accept the money. "Fine. You can split up the shares however you want, Uncle Malcolm. I'm fine with it." Soon, they will realize that Dad and I are the actual profit generators, not them.