I totally get that—there’s something about a dish that just pulls everyone into the story. The first thing that pops into my head is that scene in *The Godfather* where Mama Corleone’s lasagna is just…life. It’s a quiet moment, but that steaming plate tells us everything about family, tradition, and the quiet strength she carries. And then there’s that cold, comforting bowl of chicken soup in *The Shawshank Redemption*—Shawshank’s little kitchen scene is like a secret handshake. You’re not just watching a soup; you’re seeing hope, routine, and a small rebellion against the bleakness. Food really does feel like a silent narrator, doesn’t it?