HL Bernabe’s Cooking Up Magick, the first book in The Dell Chronicles, begins with a wonderfully understandable ambition: Paisley Dell wants to see the world and learn how to cook its food. A halfling chef who works at her aunt’s inn, she’s curious about the dishes that make travelers feel at home, and she’s ready to go looking for them herself. That appetite for experience carries her into a sprawling fantasy adventure full of dangerous journeys, ancient magick, political tensions, and unexpected companionship. Bernabe gives the story an inviting sense of everyday life, then lets the stakes grow around it. You get the pleasure of traveling with someone who’s eager to understand everyone she meets, even when the world gives her plenty of reasons to be frightened.

Paisley makes an appealing traveling companion. She’s cheerful, stubborn, sometimes impulsive, and deeply invested in other people’s comfort. Her enthusiasm has texture because Bernabe makes room for the grief and uncertainty she carries alongside it. You can understand why she’d want an adventure and why she’d sometimes ache for the safety of home. The companions around her bring their own personalities and pressures: Buckley’s scholarly enthusiasm, Torin’s blunt confidence, Idari’s reserve, and Gunur’s mixture of strength and tenderness all create lively exchanges. Then there’s Whipclaw, a cat whose attitude deserves its own place at the table. The group’s affection grows through teasing, awkward conversations, practical help, and the gradual discovery that someone else might understand you. Romantic feeling adds another layer of vulnerability to those relationships.

The food earns its place throughout the novel. Bernabe pays attention to ingredients, preparation, and the satisfaction of making something another person loves. The cooking scenes have enough sensory detail to make you hungry, but their emotional value is just as appealing. A familiar dish can carry family history; sharing a recipe can open a conversation between cultures. Paisley’s skills give her a way to connect with people whose lives and values differ enormously from her own. That attention to care also shapes the book’s more serious questions about duty, prejudice, belonging, and the responsibility that comes with power. Its humor is earthy and frequently bawdy, and its violence is graphic. Grief and the cost of conflict receive sustained attention, giving the warmth between these characters real weight.

Bernabe’s prose is direct and expressive, with kitchen comparisons woven into Paisley’s view of the world. The short chapters and shifting viewpoints let you spend time with several characters, including people whose intentions create a very different kind of tension. The storytelling has a spacious rhythm, lingering over meals, conversations, and the practical work of traveling and learning. Some emotional exchanges revisit familiar ground, but that close attention also makes the friendships feel lived in. As a series opener, the book gives you a substantial introduction to Erdea and a cast whose company is a major part of the appeal. What stays with me is Paisley’s insistence that caring for people matters, even when caring becomes difficult. Cooking Up Magick gives kindness the force of a battle cry and puts a cook’s heart at the center of an epic.

Pages: 427 | ASIN : B0HC7QPB6K