Summary: This review is for the base game. I got it on sale, and I like to play this game because I've gotten good at it. Plus, since they've added some QOL updates to the original, it's much easier to play than it used to be. I'm sort of waffling about the rating, but have decided this game has too much jank and too many bugs to recommend. If you're still interested in it, get it on sale.

Most sessions I play on career mode last about four hours. In that time, the game has at least one completely game-breaking bug that forces me to reload. Oftentimes things will fall into the floor and be irretrievable. A bowl will tip one degree and spill half it's contents. Sometimes you'll bump an ingredient and the physics will bork and it'll fly away. More often than not, something will stop cooking on the already-lit burner, and then it's a guessing game of trying to figure out how to get it working again. Sometimes you have to turn the burner off and turn on another unoccupied burner without moving the item, sometimes you have to move the item to a different, already-off burner altogether. And sometimes when that happens, the game just crashes.

Recipes: All recipes are not created equal. Some recipes require a lot of steps, a lot of spices, adding ingredients before or after cooking, and even when following these recipes seemingly to the letter, you will only net three stars and the customer will find fault. I've found the easiest way to get through this fuss is to not follow the recipes exactly as written, because the game doesn't necessarily keep track of when you added a spice or blended a soup. However, this isn't a foolproof method, and it would be so much more intuitive to streamline recipes or their language in order to help the player succeed.

Using the knife is one of the worst parts of gameplay, in my opinion, because if you cut something incorrectly, you instantly waste time and money. The issue is, you can almost never tell if you're cutting the correct amounts. I've worked with the knife in sandbox mode to help perfect my skills, but the game would certainly benefit from some kind of perk that allowed you to see how much you're actually cutting with the knife, BEFORE you cut. If the game had a heavy focus on realism, I might understand the lack of help with the knife, but that doesn't seem to be a priority for this game. I mean, food never spoils, and there's a perk for picking up fresh-out-the-oven fish with your bare hands. Not to mention you're already grabbing metal pans out of the oven with presumably no hand protection. So why can't they do anything to help the player with the knife?

Customers will often find fault with the tiniest of problems. 1 gram too much of salt. You sliced a potato a few grams too much/little. You added too many grams of oil, or didn't distribute it enough, so the potatoes you sliced and then coated with oil, not enough potatoes received oil, even though you were following the recipe. Am I feeding robots? The margin of error is exceptionally slim. Sometimes when you receive your score there will be a little left out of the fifth star, and when you try to see why, the game will not tell you what you did wrong.

Graphics: This is a bit of a nitpick, but often once the meals are plated they will look like dogs**t. You have to buy a skewer to make your hamburgers look any good, and the recipe doesn't tell you that either. Customers will eat it all anyway, no matter how it looks, but if it matters to you, just know that whatever you see in the recipe viewer is almost never what the final product will look like.

Final thoughts: This game is, once you get around the jank, a lot of fun. The feeling of perfecting the steps of a recipe and serving it at 5 stars is unparalleled, especially amidst the frustration of other gameplay issues. I really enjoy prepping food, especially soups, and not having to wash dishes or worry about spoilage. The issue is that the jank often overwhelms the game. I like playing it, but I wouldn't recommend it to my friends. I wouldn't call it a cozy game or anything like that, it's a simulator. But if you play simulators to unwind, I think you should pass on this one. That being said, if nothing I've written deters you, you should go for it, especially when it's on sale.

i can eat glass

Cooking Simulator is not just a game; it’s a fever dream wrapped in a kitchen full of chaos. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to run a professional kitchen while simultaneously forgetting how physics works, this game has you covered. It’s equal parts a culinary masterclass and a demolition derby, and honestly, I can’t tell which one it’s supposed to be most of the time.

You start in a sleek, state-of-the-art kitchen, filled with the finest cooking tools and ingredients. Everything is shiny, clean, and orderly, like a kitchen straight out of a Michelin-starred restaurant. For about five seconds, you think, “I can do this. I’m going to make masterpieces.” Oh, sweet summer child, how wrong you are.

The first recipe seems simple enough: tomato soup. You grab your ingredients, throw them into a pot, and think, “I’m basically Gordon Ramsay.” But then, the madness begins. Maybe you knock over the pot, spilling scalding hot soup everywhere. Maybe you misclick and accidentally launch a whole tomato across the room. Maybe you forget to turn the stove off, and now there’s smoke billowing everywhere. Suddenly, your dreams of fine dining are replaced with the grim reality of a grease fire.

Cooking Simulator gives you incredible control over every tiny aspect of the cooking process. You can pick up a knife, slice a carrot into thin, even pieces, and feel like a culinary genius. Alternatively, you can accidentally grab the knife by the blade, send it flying into the oven, and then panic as your carrot somehow catches fire. The controls demand precision, but they also seem hellbent on reminding you that you have none.

Want to delicately season your steak with just the right amount of pepper? Too bad! The seasoning shaker works like a salt waterfall, and before you know it, your steak is 90% pepper, 10% tears. Trying to pour oil into a frying pan? Good luck aiming—you’ll probably end up with half the bottle on the stove and the other half on the floor. It’s like performing brain surgery with oven mitts.

The physics in Cooking Simulator deserve an award for Best Comedy. Drop a plate? It shatters into approximately 12,000 pieces, scattering like shrapnel across your pristine kitchen. Place a pot too close to the edge of the counter? It’ll tumble to the floor, spilling its contents in the most infuriatingly dramatic way possible. Try to transfer soup into a bowl? Congratulations, you just poured half of it onto the cutting board instead.

And don’t even get me started on the blender. In theory, it’s a straightforward tool. In practice, it’s a vortex of destruction that will send liquids flying to every corner of the kitchen. One time, I tried blending soup and ended up painting the ceiling with tomato puree. I’m still not sure how it happened.

As the orders roll in, the pressure mounts. You’re juggling multiple dishes, trying to remember which steak gets what seasoning, and then BAM—you accidentally grab a hot pan without oven mitts. While you’re hopping around in pain, the chicken you were frying burns to a crisp. The smoke alarm goes off, adding to the already deafening sound of pans clanging and timers beeping. Customers start complaining about the wait time, and you’re pretty sure the inspector who just walked in saw you drop a spatula into the fryer.

But that’s part of the charm. The game isn’t about perfection; it’s about surviving the culinary apocalypse you’ve created. Sure, your steak might be overcooked, your potatoes might be underseasoned, and your kitchen might look like it’s been hit by a hurricane, but hey, the customer gave you 3 stars, and that’s a win in my book.

Cooking Simulator gives you access to all sorts of handy tools and gadgets. You’ve got knives, spatulas, ladles, and even a blowtorch for those fancy creme brulees. Unfortunately, these tools are more likely to betray you than help you. The tongs, for example, are a menace. They’re supposed to make flipping food easier, but they’re really just an advanced method of throwing food onto the floor.

Microwaves? Great for reheating soup. Also great for accidentally exploding said soup when you forget to cover it. The fire extinguisher? A lifesaver—if you can figure out how to aim it properly. It’s like the game is daring you to screw up at every turn.

If the structured chaos of career mode isn’t your style, there’s always sandbox mode. Here, you can unleash your inner mad scientist without the pesky constraints of customer orders or health inspections. Want to see what happens when you throw a whole turkey into a blender? Go for it. Curious about whether you can deep-fry a pizza? The fryer’s right there. I once spent an hour building a tower out of baked potatoes, only to knock it over with a rogue ladle. It was the most satisfying moment of my life.

Visually, Cooking Simulator is stunning. The food looks so realistic that it’s almost painful to watch it go to waste. Every steak has perfect grill marks, every vegetable gleams under the kitchen lights, and every plate of food looks like it belongs in a gourmet magazine. It’s a shame that most of it ends up burned, spilled, or shattered.

Cooking Simulator isn’t just a game; it’s a test of patience, creativity, and your ability to laugh at your own failures. It’s a place where dreams of culinary excellence are replaced with the harsh reality of broken plates, burnt soup, and flying carrots. It’s frustrating, chaotic, and completely ridiculous—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Whether you’re a seasoned chef or someone who burns water, Cooking Simulator is guaranteed to provide hours of hilarious, soul-crushing fun. Just don’t play it on an empty stomach. 10/10, would burn my kitchen down again.