It would be Italian, perhaps, and it would mean “cooking for someone you love.”
Today I saw two daughters of a friend out shopping. They were buying ingredients from which they planned to make bread and then, in the morning, to make french toast for their mother. Their faces were suffused with happiness; they could hardly wait to get home and begin baking. There is a deep, primal pleasure in feeding—literally nourishing—someone you love. How could there not be a word for this?