af.abravanelhall.net
Nuwe resepte

7 Kulinêre inhoudnetwerkverhale om nou te lees, skyfievertoning

7 Kulinêre inhoudnetwerkverhale om nou te lees, skyfievertoning


We are searching data for your request:

Forums and discussions:
Manuals and reference books:
Data from registers:
Wait the end of the search in all databases.
Upon completion, a link will appear to access the found materials.


Gevaarlike kolwyntjie - drink u genoeg water per dag?

Gevaarlike kolwyntjie gebruik haar blog om haar liefde vir "kolwyntjies, kos, juweliersware -ontwerp en natuurlike lewe" te deel. In hierdie pos praat sy oor water en stel sy die vraag: kry u elke dag u aanbevole hoeveelheid?

Plate | Die skottel - lente slaaisous

Plate | Die skottel bied elke week 'n verskeidenheid maaltye wat deur sjef ontwerp is, met bestanddele wat gereed is om te bestel en met resepinstruksies by u deur afgelewer word. In hierdie pos word 'n lenteslaai -monster aanbeveel. Klik deur om meer te wete te kom!

Kersie op My Sundae - Lente -ertjie en Muntsop

Kersie op My Sundae kry resepte op die internet, en pas dan aan, verbeter, verander en voeg haar persoonlike aanraking by, en sorg dat sy stappe duidelik maak en ingewikkelde prosesse vir lesers vereenvoudig. Sy gee aan dat haar blog dieselfde is om dieselfde te doen - om aan die gang te kom, sodat u resepte kan neem en dit dan u eie kan maak! Hier deel sy 'n resep waaruit dit aangepas is lunchboxbunch.com, 'n Paleo-vriendelike, veganistiese en glutenvrye lente-ertjie- en kruisement.

Bak of breek - Weeklikse mengsel: Ontbytbak

Bak of breek is 'n gebore Mississippi-bakker, wat vroeg die vreugdes van gebak geleer het. Sy woon nou saam met haar man in New York en bly bak en het resepontwikkeling, blogs en meer bygevoeg tot haar repertoire. Hier gee Bake or Break ons ​​ses ontbytvriendelike bakresepte, wat ons nie kan wag om huis toe te gaan nie.

Juffrou ... in die kombuis - Pepper Jack Spinasie -dip met die regte ketelskyfies

Juffrou ... in die kombuis, 'n vrou en ma van drie, het haar eie braaisousonderneming begin en weet hoe om vir die cowboys van die Weste te kook. Haar lewe in Wyoming is skilderagtig, maar haar begeerte om mense te bereik laat haar skryf, kook en deel met die wêreld. In hierdie pos sit mej ... in die kombuis by die harp van die Kettle -handelsmerk, en bied 'n peperjack -spinasie -dipresep om by hulle te pas.

Buurvoedsel - Inspirasie vir bykosse wat gaargemaak word

Buurtekos (Finding Community Around the Kitchen Table), is 'n blog van 'n 20-jarige gemeenskapsorganiseerder, self-geleerde bakker en vrou, Courtney. Uit Columbus, Ohio, handel haar blog oor 'kos, geloof, gemeenskap en lewe', en sy streef daarna om 'n wydverspreide gemeenskap met 'n gevoel van tuiste te skep. Hier bied Neighbor Food u inspirasie vir wat u hierdie lente en somer saam met u hoofgeregte kan bedien.

Cupcakes & Bestek - Sassy Spring Love List vir Diet Pepsi

Kolwyntjies & Bestek is daarop gemik om 'n gemaklike atmosfeer in u gesin in Kalifornië te bring met haar versameling oorspronklike en saamgestelde inhoud van regoor die internet. In hierdie pos, geborg deur Pepsi, gee Cupcakes & Bestek u 'n paar Pepsi-geïnspireerde lente-opdaterings vir u huis en klerekas.


Coronavirus laat ons kettingbriewe doen vir resepte asof dit die verdomde 90's is

Stel jou voor dat jy 36 resepte gratis kan kry. Ek bedoel, u kan dit doen deur letterlik na enige resepwebwerf te gaan. Maar stel jou voor dat hulle 'n bietjie meer saamgestel is as dit, deur 'n eendersdenkende persoon of iemand met 'n soortgelyke gesindheid aan u gegee, resepte wat 'vinnig, maklik en sonder skaars bestanddele' is. Al wat u hoef te doen is om 'n resep per e -pos aan die persoon in gleuf 1 te stuur aan die einde van die e -pos wat in u inkassie verskyn, en dan die persoon in gleuf 2 na gleuf 1 te skuif, en dan die e -pos aan te stuur na 20 vriende binne vyf dae. Baie maklik.

Soos Bijan Stephen vir The Verge geskryf het, is kettingbriewe die kakkerlakke van menslike kommunikasie. Hulle sal nooit sterf nie, solank ons ​​5de klas en liggelowige mense op die internet het. Miskien het u die afgelope paar jaar selfs ironies in u sms'e verskyn, of miskien het u nooit opgehou om dit te ontvang nie. Maar namate mense soveel as moontlik tuis bly, kom die kettingbrief weer in volle krag, met een herhaling wat die ontvangers vra om resepte te deel. Dit blyk 'n redelik verdelende manier te wees om wenke oor oond te kry.

Ek moet erken dat ek 'n afkeer gehad het toe die 'Quarantine Recipe Exchange!' e -pos verskyn in my inkassie, gestuur deur een van my oudste en beste vriende. Ek was ontsteld oor die spesifikasie dat die resep 'seldsame bestanddele' moes uitsluit, wat as iemand wat baie Indiese kos kook, 'n pleidooi was om enige van die speserye wat eintlik in my kombuis voorkom, uit te sluit. Alana, wat in Boston woon, het dieselfde frustrasie gevoel (haar naam is verander omdat sy bang is vir die woede van haar vriende). 'In hierdie tyd waar die koop van benodigdhede 'n probleem word, wat is 'n' seldsame 'bestanddeel,' vra sy en merk op dat een van haar resepte-pampoenkoekies-bestanddele gebruik soos blikpampoen en hawer wat normaalweg omstandighede is maklik om te vind - maar nou, wie weet?

Daarbenewens het dit soos 'n taak gelyk, en take is nie wat ek nou wil doen nie. 'Waarom moet die mees ekstroverte van ons samelewing gedurende hierdie tyd sosiale huiswerk op die res van ons dwing?', Vra Alana. Betsy, wat die ketting-e-pos van haar kollega oor haar werk-e-pos gekry het, sê wat die projek van pret tot angswekkend maak, is dat daar te veel dinge is om te oorweeg om 'n goeie voorstel te maak. 'Resepte is so persoonlik, en ek het geen idee of [die ontvanger] dieetbeperkings het nie,' sê sy.

'N Ander probleem is dat sommige van die e-posse in die resepketting die COVID-19-epidemie eksplisiet noem as die rede vir hul bestaan, en dat dit al hoe moeiliker word om nie nuus daaroor te gebruik nie. 'Ek voel amper dat sosialisering minder nuttig word namate die krisis verdiep en elke Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty 'n bemoedigende/neerdrukkende gesprek eindig,' sê Alana. Die e -pos wat veronderstel is om 'n prettige projek aan te kondig, is net nog 'n jammerte.

Maar die belangrikste klag is dat die ketting -e -posse die buitengewoon maklike taak om 'n resep aanlyn te vind, te ingewikkeld maak. Wat hulle implisiet van hul ontvangers vra, is om baie besige werk te doen, of om die ongemak te verduur om vir 'n vriend of kollega te sê dat u nie dink dat hierdie projek baie lekker is nie. "Ek kan net nie dink hoekom iemand sou dink dat e-pos van ewekansige medewerkers of vriende van medewerkers 'n beter manier is om resepidees te kry as maklik toeganklike hulpbronne aanlyn nie," sê Betsy. 'Ek wil nie weet wat 'n vreemdeling se tante met room sampioensop doen nie.

Shibani Faehnle sê ook dat sy die ketting verwyder het sodra sy dit gekry het, meestal omdat dit oorbodig gelyk het. 'Die internet en Instagram bestaan ​​om 'n rede,' sê sy. 'Hierdie ketting -e -pos is absoluut nie nodig as u een van die vele honderde duisende eetstagramme kan volg nie', wat waarskynlik 'n bietjie meer kundigheid het as 'n ewekansige familielid van 'n vriend. Maar nou, as u 'nee' sê, is u 'n bederf. Groepsdruk het altyd die verspreiding van kettingbriewe gedryf - die risiko dat u nie almal in u laerskool 'n lys van u tien beste vriende stuur nie, was nie eintlik dat u teister sou wees nie, dit was dat u vasgevang sou word teen die sosiale vloei. E -poskettingbriewe wat deur volwassenes gestuur word, het al die druk, en dit is nie 'n plesier om 'n lewenslange vloek te hê nie.

Die mense wat hierdie e -posse stuur, is natuurlik nie dom nie. Hulle ken die New York TimesSe kookafdeling bestaan ​​as hulle wil weet hoe om eiervrug -parm te maak. Die punt is nie regtig die resepte nie, maar die hele proses. Toe ek my vriendin, Deborah, vra waarom sy die e -pos stuur, beklemtoon haar reaksies haar begeerte na verbinding en plesier (en, daarteenoor, wat 'n siniese gat is ek). Deborah hou van kook, maar sê sy is besluiteloos en vertrou die smaak van haar vriende, so ek hoop dat die ketting suksesvolle resepte sal kry. Maar sy geniet ook die sosiale komponent en om met kennisse of selfs vreemdelinge te praat. 'Ek moes 'n resep met die hand kies vir 'n dierbare ou vriend van my suster, wat ek van kleins af goed onthou, maar soms net as 'n volwassene sien (begrafnisse, bar mitzvahs),' sê sy. 'Dit was gaaf om 'n verskoning te hê om met haar te kommunikeer as ek andersins geen rede sou hê nie.' Deur 'n ander ketting is sy in aanraking gebring met 'n plaaslike skrywer wat sy bewonder.

Fran Hoepfner sê ook dat die begeerte om op 'n nuwe manier te sosialiseer, diep in kettingbriewe is, wat haar blykbaar oorweldigend aanbeveel het vir hierdie Smitten Kitchen -swartpeper -tofu met eiervrug. 'Dit was lekker om e -posse op 'n nuwe draad af te draai en heen en weer oor kos en alledaagse dinge te praat,' sê sy. 'Ek het ongeveer twee jaar gelede van die huis af weggetrek, so dit het my weer in kontak gebring met baie mense wat ek sedertdien nog nie gesien het nie.' Die dryfveer van die e -pos is moontlik die spook van kook in die tyd van koronavirus, maar dit is slegs 'n rookskerm vir interaksie, veral die soort wat geen Zoom -aanmelding benodig nie.

Die verskillende reaksies beklemtoon algemene persoonlikheidsverskille: die neiging om interaksie met vreemdelinge met opgewondenheid of versigtigheid te beskou, is denkprojekte lekker versus. projekte. Ons kry natuurlik resepte -kettingletters. Ons beperk sosiale interaksie en stoot die grense van hoeveel dinge ons weet hoe om te kook. Baie van ons kan waarskynlik raad en gesprekke gebruik. En as u dit nie doen nie, maak net asof dit spam is.


Coronavirus laat ons kettingbriewe doen vir resepte asof dit die verdomde 90's is

Stel jou voor dat jy 36 resepte gratis kan kry. Ek bedoel, u kan dit doen deur letterlik na enige resepwebwerf te gaan. Maar stel jou voor dat hulle 'n bietjie meer saamgestel is as dit, gegee deur 'n eendersdenkende persoon of iemand van dieselfde gesindheid aan die eendersdenkende persoon, resepte wat 'vinnig, maklik en sonder skaars bestanddele' is. Al wat u hoef te doen is om 'n resep te e -pos aan die persoon in gleuf 1 aan die einde van die e -pos wat in u inkassie verskyn, en dan die persoon in gleuf 2 na gleuf 1 te skuif en dan die e -pos aan te stuur na 20 vriende binne vyf dae. Baie maklik.

Soos Bijan Stephen vir The Verge geskryf het, is kettingbriewe die kakkerlakke van menslike kommunikasie. Hulle sal nooit sterf nie, solank ons ​​5de klas en liggelowige mense op die internet het. Miskien het u die afgelope paar jaar selfs ironies in u sms'e verskyn, of miskien het u nooit opgehou om dit te ontvang nie. Maar namate mense soveel as moontlik tuis bly, kom die kettingbrief weer in volle krag, met een herhaling wat die ontvangers vra om resepte te deel. Dit blyk 'n redelik verdelende manier te wees om wenke oor oond te kry.

Ek moet erken dat ek 'n afkeer gehad het toe die 'Quarantine Recipe Exchange!' e -pos verskyn in my inkassie, gestuur deur een van my oudste en beste vriende. Ek was ontsteld oor die spesifikasie dat die resep 'seldsame bestanddele' moes uitsluit, wat as iemand wat baie Indiese kos kook, 'n pleidooi was om enige van die speserye wat eintlik in my kombuis voorkom, uit te sluit. Alana, wat in Boston woon, het dieselfde frustrasie gevoel (haar naam is verander omdat sy bang is vir die woede van haar vriende). 'In hierdie tyd waar die koop van benodigdhede 'n probleem word, wat is 'n' seldsame 'bestanddeel?' omstandighede is maklik om te vind - maar nou, wie weet?

Daarbenewens het dit soos 'n taak gelyk, en take is nie wat ek nou wil doen nie. 'Waarom moet die mees ekstroverte van ons samelewing gedurende hierdie tyd sosiale huiswerk op die res van ons dwing?', Vra Alana. Betsy, wat die ketting-e-pos van haar kollega oor haar werk-e-pos gekry het, sê wat die projek van pret tot angswekkend maak, is dat daar te veel dinge is om te oorweeg om 'n goeie voorstel te maak. 'Resepte is so persoonlik, en ek het geen idee of [die ontvanger] dieetbeperkings het nie,' sê sy.

'N Ander probleem is dat sommige van die e-posse in die resepketting die COVID-19-epidemie eksplisiet noem as die rede vir hul bestaan, en dat dit al hoe moeiliker word om nie nuus daaroor te gebruik nie. 'Ek voel amper dat sosialisering minder nuttig word namate die krisis verdiep en elke Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty 'n bemoedigende/neerdrukkende gesprek eindig,' sê Alana. Die e -pos wat veronderstel is om 'n prettige projek aan te kondig, is net nog 'n jammerte.

Maar die belangrikste klag is dat die ketting -e -posse die buitengewoon maklike taak om 'n resep aanlyn te vind, te ingewikkeld maak. Wat hulle implisiet van hul ontvangers vra, is om baie besige werk te doen, of om die ongemak te verduur om vir 'n vriend of kollega te sê dat u nie dink dat hierdie projek baie lekker is nie. "Ek kan net nie dink hoekom iemand sou dink dat e-pos van ewekansige medewerkers of vriende van medewerkers 'n beter manier is om resepidees te kry as maklik toeganklike hulpbronne aanlyn nie," sê Betsy. 'Ek wil nie weet wat 'n vreemdeling se tante met room sampioensop doen nie.

Shibani Faehnle sê ook dat sy die ketting verwyder het sodra sy dit gekry het, meestal omdat dit oorbodig gelyk het. 'Die internet en Instagram bestaan ​​om 'n rede,' sê sy. 'Hierdie ketting -e -pos is absoluut nie nodig as u een van die vele honderdduisende eetstagramme kan volg nie', wat waarskynlik 'n bietjie meer kundigheid het as 'n ewekansige familielid van 'n vriend. Maar nou, as u 'nee' sê, is u 'n bederf. Groepsdruk het altyd die verspreiding van kettingbriewe gedryf - die risiko dat u nie almal in u laerskool 'n lys van u tien beste vriende stuur nie, was nie eintlik dat u teister sou wees nie, dit was dat u sou vang teen die sosiale vloei. E -poskettingbriewe wat deur volwassenes gestuur word, het al die druk, en dit is nie 'n plesier om 'n lewenslange vloek te hê nie.

Die mense wat hierdie e -posse stuur, is natuurlik nie dom nie. Hulle ken die New York TimesSe kookafdeling bestaan ​​as hulle wil weet hoe om eiervrug -parm te maak. Die punt is nie regtig die resepte nie, maar die hele proses. Toe ek my vriendin, Deborah, vra waarom sy die e -pos stuur, beklemtoon haar antwoorde haar begeerte na konneksie en plesier (en daarteenoor, wat 'n siniese gat is ek). Deborah hou van kook, maar sê sy is besluiteloos en vertrou die smaak van haar vriende, so ek hoop dat die ketting suksesvolle resepte sal kry. Maar sy geniet ook die sosiale komponent en om met kennisse of selfs vreemdelinge te praat. 'Ek moes 'n resep met die hand kies vir 'n dierbare ou vriend van my suster, wat ek van kleins af goed onthou, maar soms net as 'n volwassene sien (begrafnisse, bar mitzvahs),' sê sy. 'Dit was gaaf om 'n verskoning te hê om met haar te kommunikeer as ek andersins geen rede sou hê nie.' Deur 'n ander ketting is sy in aanraking gebring met 'n plaaslike skrywer wat sy bewonder.

Fran Hoepfner sê ook dat die begeerte om op 'n nuwe manier te sosialiseer, diep in kettingbriewe is, wat haar blykbaar oorweldigend aanbeveel het vir hierdie Smitten Kitchen -swartpeper -tofu met eiervrug. 'Dit was lekker om e -posse op 'n nuwe draad af te draai en heen en weer oor kos en alledaagse dinge te praat,' sê sy. 'Ek het ongeveer twee jaar gelede van die huis af weggetrek, so dit het my weer in kontak gebring met baie mense wat ek sedertdien nog nie gesien het nie.' Die dryfveer van die e -pos is moontlik die spook van kook in die tyd van koronavirus, maar dit is slegs 'n rookskerm vir interaksie, veral die soort wat geen Zoom -aanmelding benodig nie.

Die verskillende reaksies beklemtoon algemene persoonlikheidsverskille: die neiging om interaksie met vreemdelinge met opgewondenheid of versigtigheid te beskou, is denkprojekte lekker versus. projekte. Dus kry ons natuurlik reseptekettingletters. Ons beperk sosiale interaksie en strek die grense van hoeveel dinge ons weet hoe om te kook. Baie van ons kan waarskynlik raad en gesprekke gebruik. En as u dit nie doen nie, maak net asof dit spam is.


Coronavirus laat ons kettingbriewe doen vir resepte asof dit die verdomde 90's is

Stel jou voor dat jy 36 resepte gratis kan kry. Ek bedoel, u kan dit doen deur letterlik na enige resepwebwerf te gaan. Maar stel jou voor dat hulle 'n bietjie meer saamgestel is as dit, gegee deur 'n eendersdenkende persoon of iemand van dieselfde gesindheid aan die eendersdenkende persoon, resepte wat 'vinnig, maklik en sonder skaars bestanddele' is. Al wat u hoef te doen is om 'n resep te e -pos aan die persoon in gleuf 1 aan die einde van die e -pos wat in u inkassie verskyn, en dan die persoon in gleuf 2 na gleuf 1 te skuif en dan die e -pos aan te stuur na 20 vriende binne vyf dae. Baie maklik.

Soos Bijan Stephen vir The Verge geskryf het, is kettingbriewe die kakkerlakke van menslike kommunikasie. Hulle sal nooit sterf nie, solank ons ​​5de klas en liggelowige mense op die internet het. Miskien het u die afgelope paar jaar selfs ironies in u sms'e verskyn, of miskien het u nooit opgehou om dit te ontvang nie. Maar namate mense soveel as moontlik tuis bly, kom die kettingbrief weer in volle krag, met een herhaling wat die ontvangers vra om resepte te deel. Dit blyk 'n redelik verdelende manier te wees om wenke oor oond te kry.

Ek moet erken dat ek 'n afkeer het toe die 'Quarantine Recipe Exchange!' e -pos verskyn in my inkassie, gestuur deur een van my oudste en beste vriende. Ek was ontsteld oor die spesifikasie dat die resep 'seldsame bestanddele' moes uitsluit, wat as iemand wat baie Indiese kos kook, 'n pleidooi was om enige van die speserye wat eintlik in my kombuis voorkom, uit te sluit. Alana, wat in Boston woon, het dieselfde frustrasie gevoel (haar naam is verander omdat sy bang is vir die woede van haar vriende). 'In hierdie tyd waar die koop van benodigdhede 'n probleem word, wat is 'n' seldsame 'bestanddeel,' vra sy en merk op dat een van haar resepte-pampoenkoekies-bestanddele gebruik soos blikpampoen en hawer wat normaalweg omstandighede is maklik om te vind - maar nou, wie weet?

Daarbenewens het dit soos 'n taak gelyk, en take is nie wat ek nou wil doen nie. 'Waarom moet die mees ekstroverte van ons samelewing gedurende hierdie tyd sosiale huiswerk op die res van ons dwing?', Vra Alana. Betsy, wat die ketting-e-pos van haar kollega oor haar werk-e-pos gekry het, sê wat die projek van pret tot angswekkend maak, is dat daar te veel dinge is om te oorweeg om 'n goeie voorstel te maak. 'Resepte is so persoonlik, en ek het geen idee of [die ontvanger] dieetbeperkings het nie,' sê sy.

'N Ander probleem is dat sommige van die e-posse in die resepketting die COVID-19-epidemie eksplisiet noem as die rede vir hul bestaan, en dat dit al hoe moeiliker word om nie nuus daaroor te gebruik nie. 'Ek voel amper dat sosialisering minder nuttig word namate die krisis verdiep en elke Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty 'n bemoedigende/neerdrukkende gesprek eindig,' sê Alana. Die e -pos wat veronderstel is om 'n prettige projek aan te kondig, is net nog 'n jammerte.

Maar die belangrikste klag is dat die ketting -e -posse die buitengewoon maklike taak om 'n resep aanlyn te vind, te ingewikkeld maak. Wat hulle implisiet van hul ontvangers vra, is om baie besige werk te doen, of om die ongemak te verduur om vir 'n vriend of kollega te sê dat u nie dink dat hierdie projek baie lekker is nie. "Ek kan net nie dink hoekom iemand sou dink dat e-pos van ewekansige medewerkers of vriende van medewerkers 'n beter manier is om resepidees te kry as maklik toeganklike hulpbronne aanlyn nie," sê Betsy. 'Ek wil nie weet wat 'n vreemdeling se tante met room sampioensop doen nie.

Shibani Faehnle sê ook dat sy die ketting verwyder het sodra sy dit gekry het, meestal omdat dit oorbodig gelyk het. 'Die internet en Instagram bestaan ​​om 'n rede,' sê sy. 'Hierdie ketting -e -pos is absoluut nie nodig as u een van die vele honderde duisende eetstagramme kan volg nie', wat waarskynlik 'n bietjie meer kundigheid het as 'n ewekansige familielid van 'n vriend. Maar nou, as u 'nee' sê, is u 'n bederf. Groepsdruk het altyd die verspreiding van kettingbriewe gedryf - die risiko dat u nie almal in u laerskool 'n lys van u tien beste vriende stuur nie, was nie eintlik dat u teister sou wees nie, dit was dat u sou vang teen die sosiale vloei. E -poskettingbriewe wat deur volwassenes gestuur word, het al die druk, en dit is nie 'n plesier om 'n lewenslange vloek te hê nie.

Die mense wat hierdie e -posse stuur, is natuurlik nie dom nie. Hulle ken die New York TimesSe kookgedeelte bestaan ​​as hulle wil weet hoe om eiervrug -parm te maak. Die punt is nie regtig die resepte nie, maar die hele proses. Toe ek my vriendin, Deborah, vra waarom sy die e -pos stuur, beklemtoon haar antwoorde haar begeerte na konneksie en plesier (en daarteenoor, wat 'n siniese gat is ek). Deborah hou van kook, maar sê sy is besluiteloos en vertrou die smaak van haar vriende, so ek hoop dat die ketting suksesvolle resepte sal kry. Maar sy geniet ook die sosiale komponent en om met kennisse of selfs vreemdelinge te praat. 'Ek moes 'n resep met die hand kies vir 'n dierbare ou vriend van my suster, wat ek van kleins af goed onthou, maar soms net as 'n volwassene sien (begrafnisse, bar mitzvahs),' sê sy. 'Dit was gaaf om 'n verskoning te hê om met haar te kommunikeer as ek andersins geen rede sou hê nie.' Deur 'n ander ketting is sy in aanraking gebring met 'n plaaslike skrywer wat sy bewonder.

Fran Hoepfner sê ook die begeerte om op 'n nuwe manier te sosialiseer, is wat haar diep in kettingbriewe het, wat haar blykbaar oorweldigend hierdie Smitten Kitchen -swartpeper -tofu met eiervrug aanbeveel het. 'Dit was lekker om e -posse op 'n nuwe draad af te draai en heen en weer oor kos en alledaagse dinge te praat,' sê sy. 'Ek het ongeveer twee jaar gelede van die huis af weggetrek, so dit het my weer in kontak gebring met baie mense wat ek sedertdien nog nie gesien het nie.' Die dryfveer van die e -pos is moontlik die spook van kook in die tyd van koronavirus, maar dit is slegs 'n rookskerm vir interaksie, veral die soort wat geen Zoom -aanmelding benodig nie.

Die verskillende reaksies beklemtoon algemene persoonlikheidsverskille: die neiging om interaksie met vreemdelinge met opgewondenheid of versigtigheid te beskou, is denkprojekte lekker versus. projekte. Ons kry natuurlik resepte -kettingletters. Ons beperk sosiale interaksie en strek die grense van hoeveel dinge ons weet hoe om te kook. Baie van ons kan waarskynlik raad en gesprekke gebruik. En as u dit nie doen nie, maak net asof dit spam is.


Coronavirus laat ons kettingbriewe doen vir resepte asof dit die verdomde 90's is

Stel jou voor dat jy 36 resepte gratis kan kry. Ek bedoel, u kan dit doen deur letterlik na enige resepwebwerf te gaan. Maar stel jou voor dat hulle 'n bietjie meer saamgestel is as dit, gegee deur 'n eendersdenkende persoon of iemand van dieselfde gesindheid aan die eendersdenkende persoon, resepte wat 'vinnig, maklik en sonder skaars bestanddele' is. Al wat u hoef te doen is om 'n resep per e -pos aan die persoon in gleuf 1 te stuur aan die einde van die e -pos wat in u inkassie verskyn, en dan die persoon in gleuf 2 na gleuf 1 te skuif, en dan die e -pos aan te stuur na 20 vriende binne vyf dae. Baie maklik.

Soos Bijan Stephen vir The Verge geskryf het, is kettingbriewe die kakkerlakke van menslike kommunikasie. Hulle sal nooit sterf nie, solank ons ​​5de klas en liggelowige mense op die internet het. Miskien het u die afgelope paar jaar selfs ironies in u sms'e verskyn, of miskien het u nooit opgehou om dit te ontvang nie. Maar namate mense soveel as moontlik tuis bly, kom die kettingbrief weer in volle krag, met een herhaling wat die ontvangers vra om resepte te deel. Dit blyk 'n redelik verdelende manier te wees om wenke oor oond te kry.

Ek moet erken dat ek 'n afkeer het toe die 'Quarantine Recipe Exchange!' e -pos verskyn in my inkassie, gestuur deur een van my oudste en beste vriende. Ek was ontsteld oor die spesifikasie dat die resep 'seldsame bestanddele' moes uitsluit, wat as iemand wat baie Indiese kos kook, 'n pleidooi was om enige van die speserye wat eintlik in my kombuis voorkom, uit te sluit. Alana, wat in Boston woon, het dieselfde frustrasie gevoel (haar naam is verander omdat sy bang is vir die woede van haar vriende). 'In hierdie tyd waar die koop van benodigdhede 'n probleem word, wat is 'n' seldsame 'bestanddeel,' vra sy en merk op dat een van haar resepte-pampoenkoekies-bestanddele gebruik soos blikpampoen en hawer wat normaalweg omstandighede is maklik om te vind - maar nou, wie weet?

Daarbenewens het dit soos 'n taak gelyk, en take is nie wat ek nou wil doen nie. 'Waarom moet die mees ekstroverte van ons samelewing gedurende hierdie tyd sosiale huiswerk op die res van ons dwing?', Vra Alana. Betsy, wat die ketting-e-pos van haar kollega oor haar werk-e-pos gekry het, sê wat die projek van pret tot angswekkend maak, is dat daar te veel dinge is om te oorweeg om 'n goeie voorstel te maak. 'Resepte is so persoonlik, en ek het geen idee of [die ontvanger] dieetbeperkings het nie,' sê sy.

'N Ander probleem is dat sommige van die e-posse in die resepketting die COVID-19-epidemie eksplisiet noem as die rede vir hul bestaan, en dat dit al hoe moeiliker word om nie nuus daaroor te gebruik nie. 'Ek voel amper dat sosialisering minder nuttig word namate die krisis verdiep en elke Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty 'n bemoedigende/neerdrukkende gesprek eindig,' sê Alana. Die e -pos wat veronderstel is om 'n prettige projek aan te kondig, is net nog 'n jammerte.

Maar die belangrikste klag is dat die ketting -e -posse die buitengewoon maklike taak om 'n resep aanlyn te vind, te ingewikkeld maak. Wat hulle implisiet van hul ontvangers vra, is om baie besige werk te doen, of om die ongemak te verduur om vir 'n vriend of kollega te sê dat u nie dink dat hierdie projek baie lekker is nie. "Ek kan net nie dink hoekom iemand sou dink dat e-pos van ewekansige medewerkers of vriende van kollegas 'n beter manier is om resepidees te kry as maklik toeganklike hulpbronne aanlyn nie," sê Betsy. 'Ek wil nie weet wat 'n vreemdeling se tante met room sampioensop doen nie.

Shibani Faehnle sê ook dat sy die ketting verwyder het sodra sy dit gekry het, meestal omdat dit oorbodig gelyk het. 'Die internet en Instagram bestaan ​​om 'n rede,' sê sy. 'Hierdie ketting -e -pos is absoluut nie nodig as u een van die vele honderdduisende eetstagramme kan volg nie', wat waarskynlik 'n bietjie meer kundigheid het as 'n ewekansige familielid van 'n vriend. Maar nou, as u 'nee' sê, is u 'n bederf. Groepsdruk het altyd die verspreiding van kettingbriewe gedryf - die risiko dat u nie almal in u laerskool 'n lys van u tien beste vriende stuur nie, was nie eintlik dat u teister sou wees nie, dit was dat u sou vang teen die sosiale vloei. E -poskettingbriewe wat deur volwassenes gestuur word, het al die druk, en dit is nie 'n plesier om 'n lewenslange vloek te hê nie.

Die mense wat hierdie e -posse stuur, is natuurlik nie dom nie. Hulle ken die New York TimesSe kookafdeling bestaan ​​as hulle wil weet hoe om eiervrug -parm te maak. Die punt is nie regtig die resepte nie, maar die hele proses. Toe ek my vriendin, Deborah, vra waarom sy die e -pos stuur, beklemtoon haar antwoorde haar begeerte na konneksie en plesier (en daarteenoor, wat 'n siniese gat is ek). Deborah hou van kook, maar sê sy is besluiteloos en vertrou die smaak van haar vriende, so ek hoop dat die ketting suksesvolle resepte sal kry. Maar sy geniet ook die sosiale komponent en om met kennisse of selfs vreemdelinge te praat. 'Ek moes 'n resep met die hand kies vir 'n dierbare ou vriend van my suster, wat ek van kleins af goed onthou, maar soms net as 'n volwassene sien (begrafnisse, bar mitzvahs),' sê sy. 'Dit was gaaf om 'n verskoning te hê om met haar te kommunikeer as ek andersins geen rede sou hê nie.' Deur 'n ander ketting is sy in aanraking gebring met 'n plaaslike skrywer wat sy bewonder.

Fran Hoepfner sê ook die begeerte om op 'n nuwe manier te sosialiseer, is wat haar diep in kettingbriewe het, wat haar blykbaar oorweldigend hierdie Smitten Kitchen -swartpeper -tofu met eiervrug aanbeveel het. 'Dit was lekker om e -posse op 'n nuwe draad af te draai en heen en weer oor kos en alledaagse dinge te praat,' sê sy. 'Ek het ongeveer twee jaar gelede van die huis af weggetrek, so dit het my weer in kontak gebring met baie mense wat ek sedertdien nog nie gesien het nie.' Die dryfveer van die e -pos is moontlik die spook van kook in die tyd van koronavirus, maar dit is slegs 'n rookskerm vir interaksie, veral die soort wat geen Zoom -aanmelding benodig nie.

Die verskillende reaksies beklemtoon algemene persoonlikheidsverskille: die neiging om interaksie met vreemdelinge met opgewondenheid of versigtigheid te beskou, is denkprojekte lekker versus. projekte. Ons kry natuurlik resepte -kettingletters. Ons beperk sosiale interaksie en strek die grense van hoeveel dinge ons weet hoe om te kook. Baie van ons kan waarskynlik raad en gesprekke gebruik. En as u dit nie doen nie, maak net asof dit spam is.


Coronavirus laat ons kettingbriewe doen vir resepte asof dit die verdomde 90's is

Stel jou voor dat jy 36 resepte gratis kan kry. Ek bedoel, u kan dit doen deur letterlik na enige resepwebwerf te gaan. Maar stel jou voor dat hulle 'n bietjie meer saamgestel is as dit, gegee deur 'n eendersdenkende persoon of iemand van dieselfde gesindheid aan die eendersdenkende persoon, resepte wat 'vinnig, maklik en sonder skaars bestanddele' is. Al wat u hoef te doen is om 'n resep per e -pos aan die persoon in gleuf 1 te stuur aan die einde van die e -pos wat in u inkassie verskyn, en dan die persoon in gleuf 2 na gleuf 1 te skuif, en dan die e -pos aan te stuur na 20 vriende binne vyf dae. Baie maklik.

Soos Bijan Stephen vir The Verge geskryf het, is kettingbriewe die kakkerlakke van menslike kommunikasie. Hulle sal nooit sterf nie, solank ons ​​5de klas en liggelowige mense op die internet het. Miskien het u die afgelope paar jaar selfs ironies in u sms'e verskyn, of miskien het u nooit opgehou om dit te ontvang nie. Maar namate mense soveel as moontlik tuis bly, kom die kettingbrief weer in volle krag, met een herhaling wat die ontvangers vra om resepte te deel. Dit blyk 'n redelik verdelende manier te wees om wenke oor oond te kry.

Ek moet erken dat ek 'n afkeer gehad het toe die 'Quarantine Recipe Exchange!' e -pos verskyn in my inkassie, gestuur deur een van my oudste en beste vriende. Ek was ontsteld oor die spesifikasie dat die resep 'seldsame bestanddele' moes uitsluit, wat as iemand wat baie Indiese kos kook, 'n pleidooi was om enige van die speserye wat eintlik in my kombuis voorkom, uit te sluit. Alana, wat in Boston woon, het dieselfde frustrasie gevoel (haar naam is verander omdat sy bang is vir die woede van haar vriende). 'In hierdie tyd waar die koop van benodigdhede 'n probleem word, wat is 'n' seldsame 'bestanddeel,' vra sy en merk op dat een van haar resepte-pampoenkoekies-bestanddele gebruik soos blikpampoen en hawer wat normaalweg omstandighede is maklik om te vind - maar nou, wie weet?

Daarbenewens het dit soos 'n taak gelyk, en take is nie wat ek nou wil doen nie. “Why must the most extroverted of our society force social homework on the rest of us during this time?,” asked Alana. Betsy, who got the chain email from her coworker over her work email, says what turns the project from fun to anxiety-inducing is that there are too many things to consider to make a good suggestion. “Recipes are so personal, and I have no idea if [the recipient] has dietary restrictions,” she says.

Another issue is that some of the recipe chain emails explicitly name the COVID-19 epidemic as the reason for their existence, and it’s become increasingly difficult to not consume news about it. “I almost feel that socializing is getting less helpful as the crisis deepens and every Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty ends up a commiserating/depressing conversation,” Alana says. The email that’s supposed to herald a fun project is just another bummer.

But the main complaint is that the chain emails overly complicate the extraordinarily easy task of finding a recipe online. What they’re implicitly asking of their recipients is to do a lot of busy work, or endure the awkwardness of telling a friend or coworker that you don’t think this project is very fun at all. “I just can’t imagine why someone would think getting emails from random co-workers or friends of co-workers is a better way to get recipe ideas than readily accessible resources online,” Betsy says. “I don’t want to know what a stranger’s aunt does with cream of mushroom soup.”

Shibani Faehnle also says she deleted the chain as soon as she got it, mostly because it seemed redundant. “The internet and Instagram exist for a reason,” she says. “There’s absolutely no need for this chain email when you can follow one of the many hundreds of thousands of foodstagrams,” who probably have slightly more expertise than a random relative of a friend. But now, if you say “no,” you’re a spoilsport. Peer pressure always drove the spread of chain letters — the risk of not sending everyone in your elementary school a list of your 10 best friends wasn’t actually that you’ll be plagued with bad luck, it was that you’d be caught going against the social flow. Email chain letters sent by adults come with all the pressure and none of the fun of a risk of a lifetime curse.

Of course, the people sending these emails aren’t stupid. They know the New York Times’s Cooking section exists if they want to know how to make eggplant parm. The point isn’t really the recipes, but the entire process. When I asked my friend, Deborah, why she sent the email, her responses highlighted her desire for connection and fun (and, by contrast, what a cynical asshole I was being). Deborah loves cooking, but says she’s indecisive and trusts her friends’s tastes, so hoped the chain would get her some successful recipes. But also, she enjoys the social component, and getting to talk to acquaintances or even strangers. “I got to hand-pick a recipe for a dear old friend of my sister’s, who I remember well from childhood, but only see on occasion as an adult (funerals, bar mitzvahs),” she says. “It was cool to have an excuse to interact with her when I’d otherwise have no reason to.” Through a different chain, she was put in contact with a local writer she admires.

Fran Hoepfner also says the desire for socializing in a novel way is what has her deep in chain letters, which apparently have overwhelmingly recommended her this Smitten Kitchen black pepper tofu with eggplant. “It’s been fun to spin off emails onto a new thread and talk back and forth about food and mundanities,” she says. “I moved away from home about two years ago, so this has put me back in touch with a lot of folks I haven’t seen since then.” The impetus of the email might be the specter of Cooking In The Time Of Coronavirus, but it’s just a smokescreen for craving interaction, especially the kind that doesn’t require a Zoom login.

The different reactions highlight general personality differences: the tendency to view interactions with strangers with excitement or with wariness, thinking projects are fun versus. projekte. So of course we’re getting recipe chain letters. We’re limiting social interaction and pushing the boundaries of just how many things we know how to cook. A lot of us could probably use some advice and some conversation. And if you don’t, just pretend it went to spam.


Coronavirus Has Us Doing Chain Letters for Recipes Like It’s the Damn ’90s

Imagine you could get 36 recipes for free. I mean, you can, by going to literally any recipe website. But imagine they were slightly more curated than that, given to you by a like-minded person or someone like-minded to that like-minded person, recipes that are “quick, easy, and without rare ingredients.” All you have to do is email a recipe to the person in slot 1 at the end of the email that has shown up in your inbox, and then move the person in slot 2 to slot 1, and then forward that email to 20 friends within five days. Easy, peasy.

As Bijan Stephen wrote for The Verge, chain letters are the cockroaches of human communication. They will never die, as long as we have 5th graders and gullible people on the internet. You may have even had an ironic one show up in your text messages in the past few years, or maybe you never stopped getting them. But as people continue to stay at home as much as possible, the chain letter is emerging in full force again, with one iteration asking recipients to share recipes. Which is proving to be a pretty divisive way to get casserole tips.

I have to admit I balked when the “Quarantine Recipe Exchange!” email showed up in my inbox, sent to me by one of my oldest and best friends. I was irked by the specification the recipe had to exclude “rare ingredients,” which, as someone who cooks a lot of Indian food, read as a plea to exclude any of the spices that are actually quite common in my kitchen. Alana, who lives in Boston, felt the same frustration (her name has been changed because she fears the ire of her friends). “In this time where buying necessities is becoming an issue what the heck is a ‘rare’ ingredient?,” she asks, noting that one of her go-to recipes — pumpkin pie cookies — uses ingredients like canned pumpkin and oats that under normal circumstances may be easy to find — but now, who knows?

Aside from that, it seemed like a chore, and chores are not what I want to be doing right now. “Why must the most extroverted of our society force social homework on the rest of us during this time?,” asked Alana. Betsy, who got the chain email from her coworker over her work email, says what turns the project from fun to anxiety-inducing is that there are too many things to consider to make a good suggestion. “Recipes are so personal, and I have no idea if [the recipient] has dietary restrictions,” she says.

Another issue is that some of the recipe chain emails explicitly name the COVID-19 epidemic as the reason for their existence, and it’s become increasingly difficult to not consume news about it. “I almost feel that socializing is getting less helpful as the crisis deepens and every Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty ends up a commiserating/depressing conversation,” Alana says. The email that’s supposed to herald a fun project is just another bummer.

But the main complaint is that the chain emails overly complicate the extraordinarily easy task of finding a recipe online. What they’re implicitly asking of their recipients is to do a lot of busy work, or endure the awkwardness of telling a friend or coworker that you don’t think this project is very fun at all. “I just can’t imagine why someone would think getting emails from random co-workers or friends of co-workers is a better way to get recipe ideas than readily accessible resources online,” Betsy says. “I don’t want to know what a stranger’s aunt does with cream of mushroom soup.”

Shibani Faehnle also says she deleted the chain as soon as she got it, mostly because it seemed redundant. “The internet and Instagram exist for a reason,” she says. “There’s absolutely no need for this chain email when you can follow one of the many hundreds of thousands of foodstagrams,” who probably have slightly more expertise than a random relative of a friend. But now, if you say “no,” you’re a spoilsport. Peer pressure always drove the spread of chain letters — the risk of not sending everyone in your elementary school a list of your 10 best friends wasn’t actually that you’ll be plagued with bad luck, it was that you’d be caught going against the social flow. Email chain letters sent by adults come with all the pressure and none of the fun of a risk of a lifetime curse.

Of course, the people sending these emails aren’t stupid. They know the New York Times’s Cooking section exists if they want to know how to make eggplant parm. The point isn’t really the recipes, but the entire process. When I asked my friend, Deborah, why she sent the email, her responses highlighted her desire for connection and fun (and, by contrast, what a cynical asshole I was being). Deborah loves cooking, but says she’s indecisive and trusts her friends’s tastes, so hoped the chain would get her some successful recipes. But also, she enjoys the social component, and getting to talk to acquaintances or even strangers. “I got to hand-pick a recipe for a dear old friend of my sister’s, who I remember well from childhood, but only see on occasion as an adult (funerals, bar mitzvahs),” she says. “It was cool to have an excuse to interact with her when I’d otherwise have no reason to.” Through a different chain, she was put in contact with a local writer she admires.

Fran Hoepfner also says the desire for socializing in a novel way is what has her deep in chain letters, which apparently have overwhelmingly recommended her this Smitten Kitchen black pepper tofu with eggplant. “It’s been fun to spin off emails onto a new thread and talk back and forth about food and mundanities,” she says. “I moved away from home about two years ago, so this has put me back in touch with a lot of folks I haven’t seen since then.” The impetus of the email might be the specter of Cooking In The Time Of Coronavirus, but it’s just a smokescreen for craving interaction, especially the kind that doesn’t require a Zoom login.

The different reactions highlight general personality differences: the tendency to view interactions with strangers with excitement or with wariness, thinking projects are fun versus. projekte. So of course we’re getting recipe chain letters. We’re limiting social interaction and pushing the boundaries of just how many things we know how to cook. A lot of us could probably use some advice and some conversation. And if you don’t, just pretend it went to spam.


Coronavirus Has Us Doing Chain Letters for Recipes Like It’s the Damn ’90s

Imagine you could get 36 recipes for free. I mean, you can, by going to literally any recipe website. But imagine they were slightly more curated than that, given to you by a like-minded person or someone like-minded to that like-minded person, recipes that are “quick, easy, and without rare ingredients.” All you have to do is email a recipe to the person in slot 1 at the end of the email that has shown up in your inbox, and then move the person in slot 2 to slot 1, and then forward that email to 20 friends within five days. Easy, peasy.

As Bijan Stephen wrote for The Verge, chain letters are the cockroaches of human communication. They will never die, as long as we have 5th graders and gullible people on the internet. You may have even had an ironic one show up in your text messages in the past few years, or maybe you never stopped getting them. But as people continue to stay at home as much as possible, the chain letter is emerging in full force again, with one iteration asking recipients to share recipes. Which is proving to be a pretty divisive way to get casserole tips.

I have to admit I balked when the “Quarantine Recipe Exchange!” email showed up in my inbox, sent to me by one of my oldest and best friends. I was irked by the specification the recipe had to exclude “rare ingredients,” which, as someone who cooks a lot of Indian food, read as a plea to exclude any of the spices that are actually quite common in my kitchen. Alana, who lives in Boston, felt the same frustration (her name has been changed because she fears the ire of her friends). “In this time where buying necessities is becoming an issue what the heck is a ‘rare’ ingredient?,” she asks, noting that one of her go-to recipes — pumpkin pie cookies — uses ingredients like canned pumpkin and oats that under normal circumstances may be easy to find — but now, who knows?

Aside from that, it seemed like a chore, and chores are not what I want to be doing right now. “Why must the most extroverted of our society force social homework on the rest of us during this time?,” asked Alana. Betsy, who got the chain email from her coworker over her work email, says what turns the project from fun to anxiety-inducing is that there are too many things to consider to make a good suggestion. “Recipes are so personal, and I have no idea if [the recipient] has dietary restrictions,” she says.

Another issue is that some of the recipe chain emails explicitly name the COVID-19 epidemic as the reason for their existence, and it’s become increasingly difficult to not consume news about it. “I almost feel that socializing is getting less helpful as the crisis deepens and every Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty ends up a commiserating/depressing conversation,” Alana says. The email that’s supposed to herald a fun project is just another bummer.

But the main complaint is that the chain emails overly complicate the extraordinarily easy task of finding a recipe online. What they’re implicitly asking of their recipients is to do a lot of busy work, or endure the awkwardness of telling a friend or coworker that you don’t think this project is very fun at all. “I just can’t imagine why someone would think getting emails from random co-workers or friends of co-workers is a better way to get recipe ideas than readily accessible resources online,” Betsy says. “I don’t want to know what a stranger’s aunt does with cream of mushroom soup.”

Shibani Faehnle also says she deleted the chain as soon as she got it, mostly because it seemed redundant. “The internet and Instagram exist for a reason,” she says. “There’s absolutely no need for this chain email when you can follow one of the many hundreds of thousands of foodstagrams,” who probably have slightly more expertise than a random relative of a friend. But now, if you say “no,” you’re a spoilsport. Peer pressure always drove the spread of chain letters — the risk of not sending everyone in your elementary school a list of your 10 best friends wasn’t actually that you’ll be plagued with bad luck, it was that you’d be caught going against the social flow. Email chain letters sent by adults come with all the pressure and none of the fun of a risk of a lifetime curse.

Of course, the people sending these emails aren’t stupid. They know the New York Times’s Cooking section exists if they want to know how to make eggplant parm. The point isn’t really the recipes, but the entire process. When I asked my friend, Deborah, why she sent the email, her responses highlighted her desire for connection and fun (and, by contrast, what a cynical asshole I was being). Deborah loves cooking, but says she’s indecisive and trusts her friends’s tastes, so hoped the chain would get her some successful recipes. But also, she enjoys the social component, and getting to talk to acquaintances or even strangers. “I got to hand-pick a recipe for a dear old friend of my sister’s, who I remember well from childhood, but only see on occasion as an adult (funerals, bar mitzvahs),” she says. “It was cool to have an excuse to interact with her when I’d otherwise have no reason to.” Through a different chain, she was put in contact with a local writer she admires.

Fran Hoepfner also says the desire for socializing in a novel way is what has her deep in chain letters, which apparently have overwhelmingly recommended her this Smitten Kitchen black pepper tofu with eggplant. “It’s been fun to spin off emails onto a new thread and talk back and forth about food and mundanities,” she says. “I moved away from home about two years ago, so this has put me back in touch with a lot of folks I haven’t seen since then.” The impetus of the email might be the specter of Cooking In The Time Of Coronavirus, but it’s just a smokescreen for craving interaction, especially the kind that doesn’t require a Zoom login.

The different reactions highlight general personality differences: the tendency to view interactions with strangers with excitement or with wariness, thinking projects are fun versus. projekte. So of course we’re getting recipe chain letters. We’re limiting social interaction and pushing the boundaries of just how many things we know how to cook. A lot of us could probably use some advice and some conversation. And if you don’t, just pretend it went to spam.


Coronavirus Has Us Doing Chain Letters for Recipes Like It’s the Damn ’90s

Imagine you could get 36 recipes for free. I mean, you can, by going to literally any recipe website. But imagine they were slightly more curated than that, given to you by a like-minded person or someone like-minded to that like-minded person, recipes that are “quick, easy, and without rare ingredients.” All you have to do is email a recipe to the person in slot 1 at the end of the email that has shown up in your inbox, and then move the person in slot 2 to slot 1, and then forward that email to 20 friends within five days. Easy, peasy.

As Bijan Stephen wrote for The Verge, chain letters are the cockroaches of human communication. They will never die, as long as we have 5th graders and gullible people on the internet. You may have even had an ironic one show up in your text messages in the past few years, or maybe you never stopped getting them. But as people continue to stay at home as much as possible, the chain letter is emerging in full force again, with one iteration asking recipients to share recipes. Which is proving to be a pretty divisive way to get casserole tips.

I have to admit I balked when the “Quarantine Recipe Exchange!” email showed up in my inbox, sent to me by one of my oldest and best friends. I was irked by the specification the recipe had to exclude “rare ingredients,” which, as someone who cooks a lot of Indian food, read as a plea to exclude any of the spices that are actually quite common in my kitchen. Alana, who lives in Boston, felt the same frustration (her name has been changed because she fears the ire of her friends). “In this time where buying necessities is becoming an issue what the heck is a ‘rare’ ingredient?,” she asks, noting that one of her go-to recipes — pumpkin pie cookies — uses ingredients like canned pumpkin and oats that under normal circumstances may be easy to find — but now, who knows?

Aside from that, it seemed like a chore, and chores are not what I want to be doing right now. “Why must the most extroverted of our society force social homework on the rest of us during this time?,” asked Alana. Betsy, who got the chain email from her coworker over her work email, says what turns the project from fun to anxiety-inducing is that there are too many things to consider to make a good suggestion. “Recipes are so personal, and I have no idea if [the recipient] has dietary restrictions,” she says.

Another issue is that some of the recipe chain emails explicitly name the COVID-19 epidemic as the reason for their existence, and it’s become increasingly difficult to not consume news about it. “I almost feel that socializing is getting less helpful as the crisis deepens and every Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty ends up a commiserating/depressing conversation,” Alana says. The email that’s supposed to herald a fun project is just another bummer.

But the main complaint is that the chain emails overly complicate the extraordinarily easy task of finding a recipe online. What they’re implicitly asking of their recipients is to do a lot of busy work, or endure the awkwardness of telling a friend or coworker that you don’t think this project is very fun at all. “I just can’t imagine why someone would think getting emails from random co-workers or friends of co-workers is a better way to get recipe ideas than readily accessible resources online,” Betsy says. “I don’t want to know what a stranger’s aunt does with cream of mushroom soup.”

Shibani Faehnle also says she deleted the chain as soon as she got it, mostly because it seemed redundant. “The internet and Instagram exist for a reason,” she says. “There’s absolutely no need for this chain email when you can follow one of the many hundreds of thousands of foodstagrams,” who probably have slightly more expertise than a random relative of a friend. But now, if you say “no,” you’re a spoilsport. Peer pressure always drove the spread of chain letters — the risk of not sending everyone in your elementary school a list of your 10 best friends wasn’t actually that you’ll be plagued with bad luck, it was that you’d be caught going against the social flow. Email chain letters sent by adults come with all the pressure and none of the fun of a risk of a lifetime curse.

Of course, the people sending these emails aren’t stupid. They know the New York Times’s Cooking section exists if they want to know how to make eggplant parm. The point isn’t really the recipes, but the entire process. When I asked my friend, Deborah, why she sent the email, her responses highlighted her desire for connection and fun (and, by contrast, what a cynical asshole I was being). Deborah loves cooking, but says she’s indecisive and trusts her friends’s tastes, so hoped the chain would get her some successful recipes. But also, she enjoys the social component, and getting to talk to acquaintances or even strangers. “I got to hand-pick a recipe for a dear old friend of my sister’s, who I remember well from childhood, but only see on occasion as an adult (funerals, bar mitzvahs),” she says. “It was cool to have an excuse to interact with her when I’d otherwise have no reason to.” Through a different chain, she was put in contact with a local writer she admires.

Fran Hoepfner also says the desire for socializing in a novel way is what has her deep in chain letters, which apparently have overwhelmingly recommended her this Smitten Kitchen black pepper tofu with eggplant. “It’s been fun to spin off emails onto a new thread and talk back and forth about food and mundanities,” she says. “I moved away from home about two years ago, so this has put me back in touch with a lot of folks I haven’t seen since then.” The impetus of the email might be the specter of Cooking In The Time Of Coronavirus, but it’s just a smokescreen for craving interaction, especially the kind that doesn’t require a Zoom login.

The different reactions highlight general personality differences: the tendency to view interactions with strangers with excitement or with wariness, thinking projects are fun versus. projekte. So of course we’re getting recipe chain letters. We’re limiting social interaction and pushing the boundaries of just how many things we know how to cook. A lot of us could probably use some advice and some conversation. And if you don’t, just pretend it went to spam.


Coronavirus Has Us Doing Chain Letters for Recipes Like It’s the Damn ’90s

Imagine you could get 36 recipes for free. I mean, you can, by going to literally any recipe website. But imagine they were slightly more curated than that, given to you by a like-minded person or someone like-minded to that like-minded person, recipes that are “quick, easy, and without rare ingredients.” All you have to do is email a recipe to the person in slot 1 at the end of the email that has shown up in your inbox, and then move the person in slot 2 to slot 1, and then forward that email to 20 friends within five days. Easy, peasy.

As Bijan Stephen wrote for The Verge, chain letters are the cockroaches of human communication. They will never die, as long as we have 5th graders and gullible people on the internet. You may have even had an ironic one show up in your text messages in the past few years, or maybe you never stopped getting them. But as people continue to stay at home as much as possible, the chain letter is emerging in full force again, with one iteration asking recipients to share recipes. Which is proving to be a pretty divisive way to get casserole tips.

I have to admit I balked when the “Quarantine Recipe Exchange!” email showed up in my inbox, sent to me by one of my oldest and best friends. I was irked by the specification the recipe had to exclude “rare ingredients,” which, as someone who cooks a lot of Indian food, read as a plea to exclude any of the spices that are actually quite common in my kitchen. Alana, who lives in Boston, felt the same frustration (her name has been changed because she fears the ire of her friends). “In this time where buying necessities is becoming an issue what the heck is a ‘rare’ ingredient?,” she asks, noting that one of her go-to recipes — pumpkin pie cookies — uses ingredients like canned pumpkin and oats that under normal circumstances may be easy to find — but now, who knows?

Aside from that, it seemed like a chore, and chores are not what I want to be doing right now. “Why must the most extroverted of our society force social homework on the rest of us during this time?,” asked Alana. Betsy, who got the chain email from her coworker over her work email, says what turns the project from fun to anxiety-inducing is that there are too many things to consider to make a good suggestion. “Recipes are so personal, and I have no idea if [the recipient] has dietary restrictions,” she says.

Another issue is that some of the recipe chain emails explicitly name the COVID-19 epidemic as the reason for their existence, and it’s become increasingly difficult to not consume news about it. “I almost feel that socializing is getting less helpful as the crisis deepens and every Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty ends up a commiserating/depressing conversation,” Alana says. The email that’s supposed to herald a fun project is just another bummer.

But the main complaint is that the chain emails overly complicate the extraordinarily easy task of finding a recipe online. What they’re implicitly asking of their recipients is to do a lot of busy work, or endure the awkwardness of telling a friend or coworker that you don’t think this project is very fun at all. “I just can’t imagine why someone would think getting emails from random co-workers or friends of co-workers is a better way to get recipe ideas than readily accessible resources online,” Betsy says. “I don’t want to know what a stranger’s aunt does with cream of mushroom soup.”

Shibani Faehnle also says she deleted the chain as soon as she got it, mostly because it seemed redundant. “The internet and Instagram exist for a reason,” she says. “There’s absolutely no need for this chain email when you can follow one of the many hundreds of thousands of foodstagrams,” who probably have slightly more expertise than a random relative of a friend. But now, if you say “no,” you’re a spoilsport. Peer pressure always drove the spread of chain letters — the risk of not sending everyone in your elementary school a list of your 10 best friends wasn’t actually that you’ll be plagued with bad luck, it was that you’d be caught going against the social flow. Email chain letters sent by adults come with all the pressure and none of the fun of a risk of a lifetime curse.

Of course, the people sending these emails aren’t stupid. They know the New York Times’s Cooking section exists if they want to know how to make eggplant parm. The point isn’t really the recipes, but the entire process. When I asked my friend, Deborah, why she sent the email, her responses highlighted her desire for connection and fun (and, by contrast, what a cynical asshole I was being). Deborah loves cooking, but says she’s indecisive and trusts her friends’s tastes, so hoped the chain would get her some successful recipes. But also, she enjoys the social component, and getting to talk to acquaintances or even strangers. “I got to hand-pick a recipe for a dear old friend of my sister’s, who I remember well from childhood, but only see on occasion as an adult (funerals, bar mitzvahs),” she says. “It was cool to have an excuse to interact with her when I’d otherwise have no reason to.” Through a different chain, she was put in contact with a local writer she admires.

Fran Hoepfner also says the desire for socializing in a novel way is what has her deep in chain letters, which apparently have overwhelmingly recommended her this Smitten Kitchen black pepper tofu with eggplant. “It’s been fun to spin off emails onto a new thread and talk back and forth about food and mundanities,” she says. “I moved away from home about two years ago, so this has put me back in touch with a lot of folks I haven’t seen since then.” The impetus of the email might be the specter of Cooking In The Time Of Coronavirus, but it’s just a smokescreen for craving interaction, especially the kind that doesn’t require a Zoom login.

The different reactions highlight general personality differences: the tendency to view interactions with strangers with excitement or with wariness, thinking projects are fun versus. projekte. So of course we’re getting recipe chain letters. We’re limiting social interaction and pushing the boundaries of just how many things we know how to cook. A lot of us could probably use some advice and some conversation. And if you don’t, just pretend it went to spam.


Coronavirus Has Us Doing Chain Letters for Recipes Like It’s the Damn ’90s

Imagine you could get 36 recipes for free. I mean, you can, by going to literally any recipe website. But imagine they were slightly more curated than that, given to you by a like-minded person or someone like-minded to that like-minded person, recipes that are “quick, easy, and without rare ingredients.” All you have to do is email a recipe to the person in slot 1 at the end of the email that has shown up in your inbox, and then move the person in slot 2 to slot 1, and then forward that email to 20 friends within five days. Easy, peasy.

As Bijan Stephen wrote for The Verge, chain letters are the cockroaches of human communication. They will never die, as long as we have 5th graders and gullible people on the internet. You may have even had an ironic one show up in your text messages in the past few years, or maybe you never stopped getting them. But as people continue to stay at home as much as possible, the chain letter is emerging in full force again, with one iteration asking recipients to share recipes. Which is proving to be a pretty divisive way to get casserole tips.

I have to admit I balked when the “Quarantine Recipe Exchange!” email showed up in my inbox, sent to me by one of my oldest and best friends. I was irked by the specification the recipe had to exclude “rare ingredients,” which, as someone who cooks a lot of Indian food, read as a plea to exclude any of the spices that are actually quite common in my kitchen. Alana, who lives in Boston, felt the same frustration (her name has been changed because she fears the ire of her friends). “In this time where buying necessities is becoming an issue what the heck is a ‘rare’ ingredient?,” she asks, noting that one of her go-to recipes — pumpkin pie cookies — uses ingredients like canned pumpkin and oats that under normal circumstances may be easy to find — but now, who knows?

Aside from that, it seemed like a chore, and chores are not what I want to be doing right now. “Why must the most extroverted of our society force social homework on the rest of us during this time?,” asked Alana. Betsy, who got the chain email from her coworker over her work email, says what turns the project from fun to anxiety-inducing is that there are too many things to consider to make a good suggestion. “Recipes are so personal, and I have no idea if [the recipient] has dietary restrictions,” she says.

Another issue is that some of the recipe chain emails explicitly name the COVID-19 epidemic as the reason for their existence, and it’s become increasingly difficult to not consume news about it. “I almost feel that socializing is getting less helpful as the crisis deepens and every Zoom/FaceTime/HouseParty ends up a commiserating/depressing conversation,” Alana says. The email that’s supposed to herald a fun project is just another bummer.

But the main complaint is that the chain emails overly complicate the extraordinarily easy task of finding a recipe online. What they’re implicitly asking of their recipients is to do a lot of busy work, or endure the awkwardness of telling a friend or coworker that you don’t think this project is very fun at all. “I just can’t imagine why someone would think getting emails from random co-workers or friends of co-workers is a better way to get recipe ideas than readily accessible resources online,” Betsy says. “I don’t want to know what a stranger’s aunt does with cream of mushroom soup.”

Shibani Faehnle also says she deleted the chain as soon as she got it, mostly because it seemed redundant. “The internet and Instagram exist for a reason,” she says. “There’s absolutely no need for this chain email when you can follow one of the many hundreds of thousands of foodstagrams,” who probably have slightly more expertise than a random relative of a friend. But now, if you say “no,” you’re a spoilsport. Peer pressure always drove the spread of chain letters — the risk of not sending everyone in your elementary school a list of your 10 best friends wasn’t actually that you’ll be plagued with bad luck, it was that you’d be caught going against the social flow. Email chain letters sent by adults come with all the pressure and none of the fun of a risk of a lifetime curse.

Of course, the people sending these emails aren’t stupid. They know the New York Times’s Cooking section exists if they want to know how to make eggplant parm. The point isn’t really the recipes, but the entire process. When I asked my friend, Deborah, why she sent the email, her responses highlighted her desire for connection and fun (and, by contrast, what a cynical asshole I was being). Deborah loves cooking, but says she’s indecisive and trusts her friends’s tastes, so hoped the chain would get her some successful recipes. But also, she enjoys the social component, and getting to talk to acquaintances or even strangers. “I got to hand-pick a recipe for a dear old friend of my sister’s, who I remember well from childhood, but only see on occasion as an adult (funerals, bar mitzvahs),” she says. “It was cool to have an excuse to interact with her when I’d otherwise have no reason to.” Through a different chain, she was put in contact with a local writer she admires.

Fran Hoepfner also says the desire for socializing in a novel way is what has her deep in chain letters, which apparently have overwhelmingly recommended her this Smitten Kitchen black pepper tofu with eggplant. “It’s been fun to spin off emails onto a new thread and talk back and forth about food and mundanities,” she says. “I moved away from home about two years ago, so this has put me back in touch with a lot of folks I haven’t seen since then.” The impetus of the email might be the specter of Cooking In The Time Of Coronavirus, but it’s just a smokescreen for craving interaction, especially the kind that doesn’t require a Zoom login.

The different reactions highlight general personality differences: the tendency to view interactions with strangers with excitement or with wariness, thinking projects are fun versus. projekte. So of course we’re getting recipe chain letters. We’re limiting social interaction and pushing the boundaries of just how many things we know how to cook. A lot of us could probably use some advice and some conversation. And if you don’t, just pretend it went to spam.