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hell is right-clicking to save an image and accidentally clicking ‘email image’ and having to wait forty years for some email program you didn’t even know existed to rise from its slumber like some lovecraftian ancient god, meanwhile the fans on your laptop are preparing for takeoff and you stare dead-eyed as the rainbow spirals, spirals, spirals. you wait and suffer this cosmic karma. days pass. “just a few more seconds” you slur. your laptop freezes and the concept of time is no longer comprehensible. your family and friends forget your name and you fade from existence.
french recipes: if you’re not making this in paris then what’s the point. fuck you
italian recipes: use the left leg meat of a pig from one of three farms in this specific area of tuscany, or from this day my grandmother will begin manifesting physically in your house
american recipes: buy these three cans of stuff and put them in a pan congrats you cooked
chinese recipes, as handed down from mother to child: season it with a pinch of this and some of that. you want to know the exact amount? feel it in your heart. ask the stars. yell into the void.
English recipes: boil and salt it. Okay that’s it enjoy
Greek recipes: You followed all the right steps but this isn’t quite right. I don’t know what to tell you.
Australia recipes: chuck it on the barbie
Latinx recipes: you will never make it better than your abuela, face the facts
Armenian recipes: spend eight days laboring over the stove. the food will be flavorful with the sacrifice of your sanity. no one will appreciate it.
Canadian recipes: It either needs more bacon, more maple syrup, more gravy, or an unholy combination of the three
Polish recipes: you have to toUCH THE DOUGH, FEEL THE PIEROGI IN YOUR HEART, TOUCH IT. LICK IT. SMELL IT.
Dutch recipes: if you didn’t mash it you fucked up.
Indian recipes: just call your mother & she’ll keep calling back with additional instructions/suggestions for the next hour at least but everything is still “estimate” or “to taste”.
