• When my husband was diagnosed with leukemia, our world shifted overnight. Suddenly, words like chemotherapy, blood transfusions, and counts became part of our daily vocabulary. Life was no longer predictable. Every day depended on lab results, clinic visits, and how he was feeling.

    Food — something once so ordinary — took on new weight. With a compromised immune system, every meal had to be safe. That meant no shortcuts, no guessing, no “just this once.” Each bite needed to be washed, cooked, handled with care. Some days, that responsibility felt overwhelming. I worried constantly: Am I feeding him what he needs? Is this safe? Will this help him feel stronger?

    The cycles of treatment have their rhythm. Chemo days often bring fatigue, nausea, and appetite loss. Some days, food feels like the last thing he wants. Then there are the days following transfusions — when a bit of energy returns, when a meal can be savored again. Those are the days I cling to.

    There have been hard nights when I’ve sat at the table alone, watching his untouched plate. And there have been bright evenings when we’ve shared a meal together and laughed like nothing had changed. Both are part of this journey.

    What I’ve learned is that caregiving is not about perfection. It’s about showing up, spoon in hand, and offering love in the simplest of ways — through a bowl of soup, a carefully washed vegetable, or a small treat that feels normal in the middle of so much that isn’t.

    If you, too, are walking through the reality of cancer treatments and restricted diets, please know you’re not alone. There will be ups and downs, but there will also be moments of light — and even at the table, hope has a place.


    Caregiver Reflection Checklist

    • Accept that appetite and energy will ebb and flow with treatment cycles.
    • Celebrate “good meal” days without guilt on the harder ones.
    • Make food safety part of your love language — it matters deeply.
    • Hold onto small joys: a shared laugh, a clean plate, a moment of connection.

  • The first restricted-diet grocery trip can feel like a test you didn’t study for. Here’s what I wish I knew:

    1. Read every label. Look for “pasteurized” and avoid raw or deli-style items.
    2. Plan just 3 meals. Don’t overbuy — start small.
    3. Stock safe shortcuts. Frozen veggies, canned beans, jarred sauces are lifesavers.
    4. Avoid waste. Buy smaller quantities until you know what works.
    5. Celebrate small wins. If one meal works, write it down and repeat it!
  • This soup was one of the first “wins” in my caregiving kitchen. It’s warm, soothing, and easy to digest. Plus, it makes enough for leftovers the next day (if stored safely).

    Ingredients

    • 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
    • 8 cups low-sodium chicken broth
    • 1 cup white rice
    • 2 carrots, peeled and diced
    • 2 celery stalks, diced
    • 1 small onion, finely chopped
    • 1 tbsp olive oil
    • Salt & pepper (to taste)

    Instructions

    1. Heat olive oil in a large pot. Add onion, carrots, and celery; sauté until softened.
    2. Add chicken breasts and broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce to simmer 25–30 minutes.
    3. Remove chicken, shred with two forks, return to pot.
    4. Add rice. Cook 15 minutes or until rice is tender.
    5. Season lightly. Serve warm.

    Checklist: Gentle Chicken & Rice Soup

    • 2 chicken breasts
    • 8 cups chicken broth
    • 1 cup white rice
    • Carrots, celery, onion
    • Olive oil, salt, pepper

    Storage: Cool quickly, refrigerate in sealed containers. Use within 48 hours.

  • When I first faced restricted-diet cooking, I thought I had to reinvent my entire pantry overnight. The truth? You only need a foundation of safe, versatile staples. With these on hand, you’ll always be able to pull together a nourishing meal.

    Dry Goods

    • Brown or white rice
    • Whole grain or white pasta
    • Couscous or quinoa
    • Oats (for baking or breakfast)
    • Whole wheat flour (for muffins/breads)
    • Crackers (sealed, pasteurized brands)

    Canned/Packaged

    • Low-sodium broths (vegetable, chicken, beef)
    • Canned beans (well-rinsed)
    • Canned tuna or salmon (pasteurized)
    • Jarred tomato sauce (low-sodium, no raw add-ins)
    • Shelf-stable nut butters

    Frozen

    • Mixed vegetables (steamable bags are great)
    • Berries (safe if cooked/baked)
    • Fish fillets, chicken breasts, or turkey cutlets
    • Cooked grains (some brands sell frozen brown rice)

    Safe Snacks

    • Granola bars (individually packaged)
    • Applesauce cups
    • Yogurt cups (pasteurized)
    • Rice cakes

  • Welcome, friends

    This space was created out of love, patience, and the everyday act of cooking for someone I care for deeply. Life has brought us into a season where food is no longer simple — it must be safe, carefully chosen, and thoughtfully prepared. What once felt overwhelming has slowly become a new way of showing love: one spoonful at a time.

    Here you’ll find:

    • Recipes that are safe for restricted diets, but still comforting and full of flavor.
    • Meal plans and grocery lists to take the stress out of planning.
    • Reflections on caregiving, resilience, and the meaning found in small daily acts.
    • Encouragement for others walking this same road.

    This blog is not about perfection — it’s about care. My kitchen may be messy, my recipes sometimes simple, but each one carries the intention of love and healing. If you are here because you, too, are feeding someone you love, know that you are not alone.

    With gratitude,
    — A Spoonful of Care

  • When the word restricted entered our lives, it was overwhelming. Suddenly, everyday foods we never thought twice about were no longer safe. I remember standing in the kitchen, staring at my pantry, wondering: Where do I even start?

    So I started small. One meal. One plate. One spoonful at a time.

    The first meal I made was nothing fancy — just a simple bowl of pasta with tomato sauce, made carefully with clean hands, safe ingredients, and extra attention to detail. But it wasn’t just food. It was comfort. It was a way of saying, I’m here, and I’ll figure this out with you.

    Since then, each recipe has been a new lesson in patience, creativity, and care. Some meals have been successes, others… not so much. But I’m learning that caregiving isn’t about the perfect dish. It’s about showing up, again and again, with love in the little things.

    That’s why I started this blog — to share not just recipes, but the heart behind them. To remind myself (and maybe you, too) that feeding someone is more than cooking. It’s connection.

    So here we begin, with a spoonful of care.