Why Food Blogs Are The Worst

Food blogs are terrible.

There. I said it. We were all thinking it, right? They’re just the worst! Sure they have photos of delicious looking food that makes you start feeling warm and fuzzy, and suddenly you’re drooling on your keyboard and tripping over your house slippers as you rush to the kitchen to concoct this glory that is whatever the food blogger has presented.  But don’t let yourself be the victim of this tom foolery, amigos.  Food blogs may seem like God’s gift to the generation that thinks nothing of photographing their every meal, snack, and beverage…but in all reality, they are but sirens waiting to lure you to your death.

And by “your death” I mean “you sitting on your kitchen floor in a puddle of flour and eggs and self-loathing while you sob tears of frustration into a mixing bowl.”

pretentions pb&j

And this is why…

Metric measurements all over the place:
I know, I know, that’s how, like, real chefs measure stuff, but this is America and the pilgrims didn’t come over here just so we could bake our cakes the same way they do in Buckingham Palace.  Now please tell me how much flour I need in freedom measurements, and preferably the kind that don’t require bringing a food scale into the kitchen.

Tiny ass portions:
This is more a problem with “healthy” blogs. Whether it’s “healthy cooking” or “healthy living” or whatever the hell else you’ve decided to “healthify,” so many of these blogs do the same thing – they provide recipes that make one or two servings of a dessert, side dish, or what we peasants might call “a damn snack.”  Like hey, that’s cool that you like to eat pigeon-sized portions.  You do you. But some of us who would like to use your recipe would like to be able to get more than one and a half servings of tofu cheesecake or whatever.  It’s that whole efficiency thing, cook once but eat four times, something like that? There are two options here: A) These “healthy” food bloggers assume that the rest of us are gluttonous savages who will compulsively shovel the entirety of the finished food product down our gullets, not unlike a great white shark snacking on a sea lion. Or B) Said bloggers believe their readers are unemployed and have their bills paid by the Utilities Gods and Phone Gods and Insurance Gods and Rent Gods, and therefore have all their waking hours free to pan-fry tofu and pulverize fresh macadamia nuts and shop for organic aged cheeses just to make one serving of some healthy “dessert” that will last all of two bites.  No, if I’m going to spend 12 frackin’ hours in the kitchen, I better have some damn leftovers.

ridiculous breakfast parfait

Weird ingredients:
Why does every food blog recipe seem to require at least one or more things like “organic unpasteurized cheese made from the milk of 100% grass fed cows pastured in a Swiss meadow and fermented by blind virgins.”  What is so terrible about some plain Jane middle-class cheese that I bought at Kroger or Costco? Because according to my wallet and my tastebuds, that peasant cheese just perfect. And also why do we have to put chia seeds in everything. They have the texture of premature tadpoles and they taste like teen angst mixed with the emotional emptiness of a trophy wife.

Putting a novella before each recipe:
It stands to reason that most people with “major” food blogs (i.e. the people who have ads or an e-book or a print cookbook or otherwise make some sort of income from their food blog) understand that people are there for the food.  We want the recipe, and maybe a couple of photos of said food so we can have an approximation of how the end result should look.  What we do not need is 23-paragraph wall of text through which we have to scroll before getting to the damn recipe.  There is a reason most of these folks are writing food blogs and not, you know, bestselling novels.  There is one exception I will make, and that is Jessica at HowSweetEats.  I have read her food blog for going on SEVEN YEARS now, and I have not made a SINGLE recipe. The reason I read her blog (almost daily) is because her writing is hilarious, I love her “voice,” and we would totally be friends if we ever met in real life.  (Also I now love the beauty product roundups she started a few years ago, but I digress…) But really, for every other food blogger in the world, none of us really have a rat’s ass to give about the poetic thoughts they have regarding the “luxurious lightness of the fresh-whipped cream laced with flecks of vanilla bean” or whatever it may be.  It’s whipped cream with vanilla bean in it, and I will be well aware of that in 10 minutes when I finally scroll to the end of the page, and I don’t need to read your dissertation on the history of whipped cream to understand that.  (And to be quite frank, it will probably end up being cool whip with vanilla extract stirred in because I’m poor/not a gourmand.)  Just give us the recipe and save all the prose for your diary.

The total kitchen destruction that each recipe requires:
It takes me 36 dishes and 17 hours to complete this recipe and then clean up the nuclear wasteland that is now my kitchen.  Sure, now I’ve finished cooking your organic agave-sweetened mini-muffins (all FOUR OF THEM, because you’re a sadist with no sense of normal portion sizes) but I no longer have any clean spoons or bowls in my kitchen, and I can’t find my way to the silverware drawer because a mushroom cloud of gluten free flour has enveloped me and the kitchen appliance-equivalent of a 12-car pileup has exploded on my counter.  The glory of that muffin (which is dubious at best, given my tendency to disregard baking directions in recipes and the tendency for food bloggers to lack normal, middle-class tastebuds) does not nearly outweigh the hazmat-level horror that will await me in the kitchen sink after completing the recipe.

fancy diner food

I like freedom:
I like capitalism, and firearms, and red meat, and America, and freedom.  This includes freedom in the kitchen – which, coincidentally, is a place I’m happy to be, because there’s food there and I’m far from being a feminist and I make a mean sammie if I do say so myself.  This is why I suck at baking.  I freeball things when I cook, and that doesn’t turn out so well when you’re trying to find that perfect balance between precise measurements of things like baking powder and flour and egg whites and butter to make something finicky (albeit delicious) like a lemon meringue pie.  Hard pass, but thanks. I’ll stick to my method of cooking, which is usually cooking some sort of meat and cooking some sort of vegetable (maybe together) and throwing on a combination of seasonings that I already know that I like…and then chopping up said meat and vegetables, tossing those suckers in a bowl, and consuming it with great gusto. Probably with Frank’s buffalo sauce on top, because my tastes are delicate and refined and my spirit animal is a long haul trucker.

ron swanson meat tornado

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