Let’s be all that nonsense copy at the beginning of an online recipe

I’m the hidden “Jump to Recipe” button.

I'm the "Don't knock the secret ingredient of toothpaste in the frosting until you've tried it!" teaser.

My family says this recipe works even better than ColonBlow™ !

Some afternoons just feel heavier than others, like the air itself is carrying a memory you didn’t ask for but can’t quite put down. The cicadas drone on out back, the rocking chair creaks against the porch, and you find yourself wondering how many summers you’ve sat through just like this one, and how many more you’ll get. Folks say time marches on, but down here it don’t march so much as it meanders—takes the long way ‘round the magnolia tree, stops for a spell under the pecan shade, then forgets what it was rushing off to in the first place.

I can’t help but think about kitchens past—those scuffed linoleum floors, the hum of a box fan shoved in the window, the clatter of pots that never matched. There’s always a story tied up in a smell, always a memory folded into the steam rising off something you can’t quite name but you know you’ve tasted before. Funny thing is, it never comes to you all at once—it sneaks up like honeysuckle on the wind, lingering long enough to make you ache without telling you why.

And maybe that’s the whole charm of it, the not-knowing. The way sweetness seems to live right there on the edge of your tongue, just out of reach. The way comfort don’t ever come crashing through the door, but rather slips in quiet-like, easing itself into your bones till you suddenly realize you’ve been sitting with it all along.

Which brings me, naturally, to dessert.

Trust the process!

I'm the comments section: "I replaced all vegetables with Velveeta cheese, removed parsley since nobody in family likes it and substituted ground beef for salmon and it turned out wonderful!"

My fat little kids ask for this every night.

I was inspired by this.

I'm the comments section: asking can I substitute this or that ingredient for the one in your recipe. How are they suppose to know?

R9, if you haven't yet please read the link at r8. It's quite funny with several examples .

r9 In truth, there [italic]are[/italic] potential substitutions which work in most situations and which expert cooks and chefs know (say, honey for corn syrup; or melted butter for vegetable oil; etc. etc.), so it's not unreasonable for an amateur to ask someone more proficient about possible substitutions. Many vintage cookbooks include a table of substitutions. But substituting without knowledge, experience, or advice is a recipe for failure.

I’m the detailed explanation of all the things the home cook did wrong before arriving at her 2/5 star recipe.

The reader suffers through this worthless information only to find 6 paragraphs later that the recipe contains crap ingredients like corn syrup, Lipton Cup O’ Soup and Friskies

I'm the confused origin story. This recipe was learned at my grandmother's knee but also in the two weeks I spent in France/Spain/Italy. None of the ingredients are authentic and my grandmother died before I was born, but this recipe is genuine. Don't believe me? Here's a photo of me next to a lemon tree.

I'm me learning to never click on those fucking no name recipe sites.

I am the summary of regional variations and food pathways, none of which has the author tried or traveled. Often I am in the exact same order as a Google query.

I do realize that admitting to cooking with an air fryer is dreadfully recherché, n’est-ce pas? Still, one must sometimes sully oneself with the tools of the masses. And yet — unlike the fraus who use theirs for frozen mozzarella sticks — I’ve devised a preparation that would not be out of place in a Venetian palazzo or, indeed, at my table in Back Bay.

I'm the dish that's a "real favourite with friends at my dinner parties", which most readers cannot relate to because they hate people.

This recipe is easy as pie. No, easier!

The only hard part is cutting the cheese.

…so then, I turned 15 and we moved AGAIN and my mom said never again but the thing that never changed was her love for flaky pie crust …

"I learned this trick from my friend in Italy/Germany/France and will never make xyz any other way".

I am the “You Will Need” list only to be followed several paragraphs further down by the ingredients list which is the same thing.

My hubby and kiddos LOVE this tofu and broccoli cake!

I am the overly enthusiastic copy about a banana pudding recipe made with instant pudding.

"I make these for the kids all the time!"

"Mexican grandmothers have slaved over this dish, but our version requires only three ingredients ...

(pages later)

Ingredients:

1 frozen chicken 1 16 oz. jar of store-bought mole sauce 1 16 oz. container of chicken stock"

Geez, I have to take screen shots to follow a recipe. So many ads and refreshes….

I’m the final result that tastes like garbage, because sliced peaches have no business occupying Vietnamese summer rolls.

But they look sooooooooo g 👀 d on INSTA! 🌟

R1 😂 I love you.

Assuming most if not all of these intros could be written by AI, I asked ChatGPT to write some insipid copy for an oatmeal recipe:

Here’s an intentionally tedious intro that would send readers scrambling for the “Jump to Recipe” button:

⸻

Oatmeal has been a part of my mornings for as long as I can remember—well, ever since that one chilly autumn in college when I discovered that hot cereal could be, dare I say, life-changing. My grandmother used to tell me stories about how oats sustained our ancestors through long, harsh winters, and I often think about her words as I stir my pot of simmering grains. There’s something profoundly grounding about watching steam curl lazily above the saucepan while the sun peeks through the kitchen curtains, reminding me of simpler times and cozy breakfasts shared with loved ones.

Before we dive into the recipe itself, I really want to share the exact moment I knew oatmeal would become my forever breakfast: it was a rainy Tuesday, and the way the maple syrup drizzled over the bowl felt like a tiny hug from the universe. Plus, oats are full of fiber and, like, so good for your heart. But you probably already knew that. Anyway, let me tell you about the first time I paired oatmeal with a dash of cinnamon and a single frozen blueberry—it completely transformed my outlook on weekday mornings.

So grab your favorite spoon (yes, the spoon matters!) and settle in for the ultimate guide to making a bowl of oatmeal that just might change your life—or at least make your Tuesday a little warmer.

That’s just too real, R29.

Score for AI.