I'm not exactly adventurous in the kitchen, but I do try cooking new things fairly frequently. My go-to for recipes is the BBC Good Food website, but I have a few cookbooks too, mostly specialist low-carb ones, bought during periodic dieting attempts. Of these, I recommend The Low Carb Diabetes Cookbook (steer clear if you don't like cauliflower) and Tom Kerridge's Dopamine Diet (pork scratchings sprinkled on everything).
So I have a reasonable amount of experience following a recipe. And I often find that what should be a very simple form of written communication – a list of what you need followed by instructions – is a confusing, disordered mess that neglects to imagine the person on the end of it.
Of all the types of content that should be putting the reader first (which is every type, ever), recipes are right up there. You're writing for someone who is a unique combination of stressed, hopeful and highly dependant on instruction – all while wielding knives and stirring hot pans. This person does not have the time or inclination to work out what you actually mean or hazard a guess, but that's what you force them to do when you're less than clear.
With that in mind, here are four things you, a recipe or cookbook writer, could do if you'd like your writing to be useful and not induce rage or anxiety.
1. Write the ingredients like a shopping list, and put preparations in the method
Is '50g bacon lardons, fried until crisp' an ingredient or an instruction, Tom Kerridge? In your rib eye steak chasseur, it's acting as both, and therefore not doing a good job of either. Same goes for things like 'six eggs, beaten'. Ingredients are so often set out like this. What I want is a list I can take to the supermarket, with the items expressed in a way that relates to how I might find them on the shelves. Then I want the preparations for each thing to be included in the method at an appropriate stage (which might not always be right at the top – see point 3 below). Things in one list, actions in another. Is this too much to ask?
2. Be realistic about the prep and cooking time
Does it take five minutes to cut up a butternut squash? No, it does not. It takes an age. So, a recipe that involves this vegetable should not boast of 'five mins prep'. And don't base it on the time it takes you, an experienced food writer, to chop things, or how quickly sauces reduce when using your professional pots and stoves. Imagine someone in their kitchen at home, with limited worktop space, small chopping boards and non-chef's knives, coming to your recipe for the first time. Be realistic, generous even, in your estimations and your home cook might be pleasantly surprised when they beat the clock.
3. Write the method in a logical order
I frequently have to get a notepad out and rewrite a recipe in an order that makes sense, or that minimises the number of pans I'm using. Alarm bells should ring if you notice several steps begin 'in a pan' as though you don't already have one on the go – you can usually organise things so that you're reusing the same couple of pans throughout. It would be helpful if you, the writer, thought about this.
And don't leave anything out: if you're following my number 1 tip, the first step or steps will probably be slicing and dicing. It may seem totally basic to you, and not the sophisticated food writing you want to be doing, but once again: picture your reader in their kitchen. No matter how boring preparation is, it's part of how they will get your dish made, so put it in a place that makes sense. Is an ingredient not needed until later? Have us chop it up while something is simmering.
Your numbered steps should be short and clear, with each one genuinely representing one thing to do, not lumping together five things. Take a look at this from a BBC recipe for smoked haddock and pearl barley risotto:
STEP 2 Melt the butter in a large saucepan over a low heat and add the leeks. Season, then add about 2 tbsp of water, cover the pan and cook the leeks for about 10 mins until softened. Stir in the barley, turning it over in the juices for 1 min, then increase the heat a little and add the vermouth. Let this bubble away to almost nothing, then add half the reserved fish stock.
Does that look like one step to you? There's absolutely no reason not to split it up into three or four. It's a really nice recipe, by the way, but when you get to the last bit, add the spinach and cream before the haddock so that you can stir them in properly without breaking up the nice chunks of fish. You're welcome.
4. Use precise, plain words, not fancy, vague ones
So that means avoid 'glug', 'splash', 'drizzle' and 'pinch'. These are all nice words that give the impression of a cook nipping around their kitchen, but they are useless when someone is following an unfamiliar recipe.
It's even worse if you add modifiers to make 'healthy splash', 'good glug' or 'generous pinch' – everyone has a different idea of what these look like. You may not think precision matters because you've made the dish loads of times, and you're confident handling ingredients. But your reader just wants it to turn out well and not to accidentally drown it in olive oil. So please, let's have weights and measures, every time.
And believe me, 'pour', 'put' and 'add' are perfectly good enough. There's really no need for 'tip', 'slide', 'nestle' and so on. Remember your home cook is just trying to follow the steps while she's stressed and hot. These are instructions, not a creative writing exercise.
I should say I've deliberately not included a point specific to food blogging about the waffly life story – several paragraphs that you have to scroll past before you get to the ingredients. I avoid this type of recipe, and I think everyone agrees they're annoying to the point of unusable. But let's get it out of the way and say clearly: we don't care that this is the macaroni cheese of your dreams and it reminds you of your grandmother and it's taken 12 years of travelling around the world to perfect it. When we googled macaroni cheese recipe, I'm afraid we really did just want a recipe.
Oh and another thing – include a picture with every recipe
This one's for your publisher, I realise – but which home cook has ever chosen a recipe that doesn't have a picture when there are others in the book that do? I need to know roughly what the thing is supposed to look like, or it's a no from me. This is one of those times when beautiful layout is less important than clarity of information. Yes, I know many designers don't think that's a thing, but it is. If it means having fewer recipes in your book, please do that. We will all cope, I expect.
Comments