How to Write — and Read — Recipes Better

It’s a two-way street toward clarity and comprehension

Bonnie S. Benwick
Heated

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A person’s hands holding open a cookbook.
Photo: Dan Gold via Unsplash

Seems straightforward, this randomly chosen ingredient line. Yet the way it’s written bugs me like no-see-ums at dusk:

“1 medium white onion, finely chopped (about 2 ounces)”

It represents issues rife in the Covid-concentrated era of online recipes. More substantive points about the shortcomings of food media have been raised of late. But here is something we can immediately change for the better.

Let’s start with a two-part premise: A recipe writer wants to impart the methods that lead to successful re-creation. A reader can choose to follow that lead to the letter or regard it as a jumping-off point. When it’s a #RecipeFail — a hashtag so broadly applied — the solutions lie in less ambiguity from the writer and greater comprehension by the reader. The combined result could even net fewer cranky online comments.

Writers of recipes for American audiences long ago kept things brief, assuming basic knowledge and standard, limited equipment. Minimalists decry the verbiage of current recipes even though generations of technology, “non-cooking,” and inclusiveness demand it. When the comments bemoan such exposition, though, I revisit Rozanne Gold’s smart, minimalist recipes of the 1990s…

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Bonnie S. Benwick
Heated
Writer for

I’m the former deputy editor/recipe editor of The Washington Post Food section. Find me on Instagram (bbenwick), and at bonniesbenwick.com.