About Recipes Ripple

What changed, and what it changed for you

When this site started, it was a messy collection of recipes scribbled down from my dad’s yellowed cookbook, passed along with no real structure. Measurements were eyeballed, techniques were assumed, and the whole thing felt like a half-remembered dream.

The first few pages were just what I’d tried and liked—no testing, no consistency, no thought beyond ‘this worked for me.’

Now, every recipe follows the same rules: tested twice, measured precisely, and written for someone who might not know a *mise en place* from a *béchamel*. The site is built around reliability, not nostalgia. You’ll still find the dishes that feel like home, but they’ll work on your first try.

The one that took years

The biggest change was learning to trust the process. For years, I’d tweak recipes until they matched what I remembered from my dad’s kitchen—even if that meant ignoring the science.

A sauce would ‘need’ more salt because ‘that’s how it tasted before,’ or a dough would ‘work better’ if handled roughly. The problem? Those memories were unreliable. What I *thought* was right often wasn’t.

It took three years to admit the old way was broken. I’d test a recipe, tweak it, test it again, and still end up with something that ‘felt’ off. The realisation came when I compared my notes to a volunteer’s first attempt: their version of my ‘perfect’ dish was better.

That’s when I stopped adjusting for nostalgia and started adjusting for *results*.

Now, every recipe is tested by someone who doesn’t know the dish’s origin. If it fails for them, it’s rewritten. The cost? More time, more volunteers, and sometimes throwing out a dish entirely. But the payoff is recipes that work for *anyone*, not just the person who wrote them.

Meet the author

I grew up in a kitchen where recipes were passed down in whispers—‘a splash of this, a handful of that’—and the only way to learn was by watching and failing.

My first attempt at making my dad’s *pollo guisado* ended with a pot of burnt chicken and a lecture about ‘patience.’ I’d spend hours adjusting a dish, only to realise later that the ‘secret’ was just following the steps. The real lesson? Most cooking advice is just someone else’s guesswork.

For years, I wrote recipes the way I cooked: intuitively, with shortcuts and assumptions. I’d test a dish once, declare it ‘done,’ and move on. The problem was obvious in retrospect—I’d never met a cook who didn’t have a ‘disaster story’ from their first attempts.

Mine was a batch of *empanadas* that fell apart before they hit the oven. I blamed the filling. It was the dough.

What changed was the day I realised I was writing for myself, not for readers.

Now, I run *Recipes Ripple* with Marguerite Delgado, testing every recipe until it’s foolproof. The site exists to turn ‘I’ll try it sometime’ into ‘this is on the menu tonight.’ No guesswork, no shortcuts—just dishes that deliver.

What did not change

The core idea hasn’t shifted: this site is for recipes that feel like coming home. Whether it’s a weeknight pasta or a holiday centerpiece, the goal is the same—dishes that taste like memory, but work like a plan. The traditions matter just as much as the technique.

The tone hasn’t changed either. No jargon, no pretension. If a recipe sounds like it’s written by a chef for other chefs, it’s wrong. The best cooking advice is the kind that sounds like your nonna explaining how to roll dough, not a textbook.

What is still being fixed

Right now, we’re working on two things: expanding the ‘troubleshooting’ section for common cooking mistakes (like why your *risotto* is gummy or your *pie crust* cracks) and adding more global recipes that aren’t just European or Latin American.

The site still leans heavy on the flavors I grew up with, but the world’s too big to ignore.

If you’ve got a recipe that always fails—or a dish you’d love to see here—tell us. The contact page is the best place to start.