Lorena Jones became publishing director of Chronicle Books last fall, and she’s focusing on the newest part of her  job: developing dynamic digital content for mobile applications, enhanced e-boooks, and iPads.

The former publisher of Ten Speed, Jones worked at Ten Speed for 15 years. Now she’s going digital and embracing the learning curve.

“Five of us here are trying to learn all this stuff at warp speed,” she said. “We work super collaboratively.” Jones has done about a dozen deals since January, including six iPhone apps and 3 iPad apps. She calls the products “suites.”

She’s developing her talent pool, working with both established Chronicle authors and new writers excited about digital media. “I think of it like the Matrix. I think about what authors know in a 360 degree perspective. How can that knowledge be developed and expanded and rendered in video, audio, an interactive game or a quiz?”

All the big publishing houses are busy developing and producing electronic apps. Ten Speed, for example, made the app for David Lebovitz. Publishers are deciding how much they want to invest and experiment, said Jones. It’s an intriguing issue, since apps sell for just a few dollars compared to a hard-cover cookbook, which typically retail for $25-$35. Publishers need sales in the hundreds of thousands to make the investment add up.

For now, Chronicle is content to experiment. Some of the process is familiar, mirroring producing a book, Jones says. She gets involved at the acquisitions stage, determining whether a book has digital potential. She’s attracted to reference and tool-based books, so cookbooks are a natural. She decides whether the author is suited to the project, and maps out the deliverables and a production schedule.

At this point, since the technology is new, Chronicle plays a big part in imagining and producing the content. Chronicle produces app pieces in-house that cookbook authors have never heard of, she said, like  “a shopping cart with an aggregated shopping list, provided in an Excel spreadsheet.” It is used to create an interactive grocery shopping list, based on recipes the user selects.

For a recipe app, Jones might narrow down a cookbook to 35 essential recipes. Headnotes must be edited or recast for the screen. She identifies opportunities for additional learning moments, such as videos that appear as sidebars. She thinks about what would make more sense as a video versus text, such as whipping egg whites or making caramel.  She coaches the author on how to write a script for the audio in these videos, then the author records the media in a studio, with a producer.

What if writers have ideas for a digital content? “They just have to articulate their thoughts, not create a full-fledged proposal.”

I asked why techie authors should work with publishers versus try to create this content on their own as entrepreneurs. At this point  they get a lot of hand-holding, said Jones. She feels there is an advantage in Chronicle ’s vendor relationships. I’d add that the publisher provides some marketing support, a distribution method, and Chronicle pays writers to create digital content.

So what do authors need to do to be attractive in this new medium? “Authors have to learn to work in the video medium,” Jones said.  While some can communicate well in audio, it’s not for everybody. But you don’t have to be Giada, she said. Not yet. “We’re not so focused on entertainment quality, more like PBS at this stage.”

What should food writers do to step up their skills? “Get familiar with the devices and the way people are consuming content on them,” she advised. “Everyone should have a smart phone where you can buy and use apps. Have access to an e-reader. We’re all going to know someone who has an iPad. Play around with them, see what you like about them. You will start having those thoughts: this part of what I know would make a great app. ”

What if you’re not interested in developing digital content? Jones is reassuring. “There’s always going to be a market for books, and the digital products we’re making are not replacements,” she said. “There are books that should not have digital products for them, particularly single subject or trendy books.” Asked for an example, she said she didn’t need an app based on 50 gingerbread cookies.

As for me, I just got my first smart phone and spent 15 minutes yesterday trying to type a Twitter message on the super-sensitive Apple keypad. I have a long way to go. I have yet to download the cooking and food apps and play with them, but I’ll get there.

What about you? Are you downloading apps and seeing how they work? Are you fantasizing about your own app or already working on one? Or are you thinking you’ll stick with just type for now? Let’s discuss.

© photo courtesy of Ruhlman.com.

People get worked up about recipe writing on this blog, me included. It used to be that my posts on taking freebies got the most responses, but now my “Most Popular” list (on the right) is mostly about recipes.

So excuse me for pandering to the crowd, but I spent all last week editing recipes written by bloggers, and I’ve got another seven nits to add to my original list of 7 Common Recipe Writing Errors. Here they are:

1. Vague titles. “The Ultimate Cookie” doesn’t tell the reader anything other that, in your opinion, this is a darn good cookie. And so it should be. Why else would you blog about it?

The other issue is SEO. Let’s say your recipe is for Snickerdoodles. If potential readers type “Snickerdoodle recipe” into a search engine, you’re making it more difficult for them to find your post.

2. Incomplete directions. “Toast cumin seeds and grind them.” Unless your readership comprises Indian cooks, they’re probably going to need a few more clues. Remember that your readership is probably less sophisticated in the kitchen than you are, and they don’t want to feel intimidated.

3. Action takes place without vessels or tools. “Beat butter with sugar until creamy.” Where does this action take place? On your countertop? With your hands? Or “Bring cream to a boil.” Missing are: in a bowl, in what size saucepan, over what kind of heat. It’s also useful to mention a stand mixer, electric mixer, or a wooden spoon to help your reader along.

4. Duplicate approximations of timing. If you say it takes “about 3-5 minutes,” you have two approximations. “About” is the first, and the range of time is the second. Use either “3-5 minutes,” or “about 5 minutes.”

5. Too many exclamation points in the headnote and method! OMG! I deleted exclamation points last week until my fingers were sore! Please, by all means, be funny, be exhilarated! Convey your emotions through words, rather than through this one symbol! It gets a little tiring, and you might look like an ditz after a while!

6. Making every step a separate number.

1. “Keep warm” does not appear on a numbered line by itself in the method.
2. It goes at the end of a paragraph.
3. Group your actions based on how to make and complete a particular part of the recipe.
4. Otherwise you might end up with 25 numbered actions.
5. The recipe will look daunting when it isn’t.

7. Taking too long to get to the point. If your title is “Strawberry Jam,” and the first five paragraphs of your post are about your father’s time in the Navy, the reader’s going to get a little confused.  Work in the strawberry jam early on, and then make the connection to the Navy.

© photo courtesy of Ruhlman.com.

In the last week I’ve been editing recipes for two books by food bloggers. Both have short deadlines, and I’ve been working long hours.

That’s okay. It’s so much fun to see such creativity and invention, to fantasize about which recipes I’m going to try, and –yes– to nitpick. Such is the job of an editor. For one book, I make comments in pen and add little colored stickies to the paper copy. For the other, I make comments using Track Changes within the Word document.

And here’s what I’m finding: errors and inelegant phrasings. I thought you might want to know about  the most common mistakes. First though, let’s review the terminology: The list of ingredients is called (funnily enough) the “ingredients list,” and the directions are called the “method:”

1. Ingredients out of order. This is by far the biggest error. List ingredients in the order of use. If the first thing you’ll do is saute the onions, don’t list the  steak first, even if it’s the star of the recipe.

2. Missing ingredient. Make sure you use every item in your ingredients list, in order. Otherwise you’ll get a little note that says, “What were you planning to do with the lime zest?” Similarly, if you refer to an ingredient in the method, make sure it’s in your ingredients list.

3. Wrong amounts. I saw a recipe for 30 cookies that called for 2 1/2 pound of flour (10 cups) and 3 cups of honey. I don’t think so.

I’ve also seen measurements in the ingredient list that don’t match the amount called for in the method. Not that you should be calling for amounts in the method most of the time anyway. (See next item about when to do so.)

4. Overuse of  the term “divided” in the ingredients list. “Divided” comes into play when you use an ingredient more than once. But’s such an imprecise word, and recipe writing is all about precision. “Divided” doesn’t tell the reader anything other than that they will have to pay attention when it comes to using the ingredient.

And as we know, readers don’t pay full attention. Hell, most of them don’t even read the whole recipe first. I’m guilty too. How many times have I dumped in all the sugar, only to read later that I need a “remaining” half cup? (Don’t ask.) Here are a few workarounds:

• Use subheads. Let’s say you’re making a steak salad. You’re using vinegar twice: once when marinating the steak and once when making the salad dressing. Use subheads such as “Marinade” and “Dressing” so you can give the appropriate amount of vinegar for each use.
• State just the ingredient, not the amount. Let’s say you use salt and pepper three times: once when seasoning the meat, then in the marinade, then add it at the end for flavoring. Just say “salt and freshly-ground pepper”  in the ingredients list. Give amounts in the method.
• State both amounts, starting with the largest. Such as “1/2 cup olive oil + more to grease the pan.”

If you must use “1/2 cup vinegar, divided,” state the first amount in the method (1/4 cup vinegar). Write “remaining” 1/4 cup of vinegar” when you use it the second time. The word “remaining” has a purpose. It alerts people like me that it’s time to swear.

5. Listing water as an ingredient. Just bring it up in the method and state the amount. Such as “Add 1 cup of ice water, a few splashes at a time, until the dough comes together.”

6. Calling for prepped ingredient in both ingredient list and method. If the ingredients list says “Grated Parmesan,” there’s no reason to say “Grate Parmesan over pizza” at the end of the method.

7. Saying “season to taste” when it’s not the right time to taste it. If your pasta sauce simmers for two hours, it won’t help readers to season it beforehand. Also don’t ask them to taste batter, raw meat and other uncooked things to season them.  It’s not the right time to taste, and people won’t want to anyway. Just provide the correct amount of salt and pepper when you need it.

I could go on about the excessive use of bacon and chocolate in desserts, or about photos that don’t show what the recipe said, or particularly, about overuse of the word “mixture.”

But I’d rather hear about what drives you crazy when writing recipes or when trying to follow one.

© photo courtesy of Ruhlman.com.

Update: This post also appeared at BlogHer.

 “My wife was browsing for a good burrito recipe and stumbled on a blog that posted a recipe strikingly similar to one on Food & Wine without giving any credit,” said my friend Ethan in a recent email.

“The blogger had modified the recipe a bit, but clearly a lot of the recipe was cut and pasted,” he continued. “I made a comment, as polite as I could, asking the blogger about it, but I suspect she won’t approve it.”

(I’m not providing a link because I don’t want  you to tear this food blogger a new one. People can get pretty worked up on this blog.)

I was intrigued and went to the food blogger’s site to investigate. While she did not provide credit, her About page said, “A lot of the recipes on this site came from various sources. I do not claim most of these recipes as my own.” 

Well great! Except that it’s not even legal to copy a recipe verbatim and give credit, unless you have permission from the publisher, let alone change a few  things but not enough and not give credit. How hard would it have been to say, “Adapted from Food & Wine?”

You might be surprised to know she rewrote the method and changed quite a few ingredients for her chicken burrito:

• used half as much boneless, skinless chicken thighs
• specified a sliced onion instead of quartered onion
• added two garlic cloves
• used regular sour cream instead of low fat
• used half as much shredded Monterey Jack
• left out the shredded lettuce
• called for a 1/2 cup guacamole instead of a chopped small avocado.

Even so, Ethan and his wife, both enthusiastic home cooks, recognized the doctored recipe right away. So much for the idea that if you modify a recipe, it’s yours.

The fantasy persists. Last week a student in my food writing class said she consulted a lawyer when she left a restaurant. She had developed all the recipes and the owner said they were his property. The lawyer said no problem. All she had to do was change them a little bit, like add a garlic clove, and the recipe would be hers.

Uh, wrong. Now you can see exactly why, particularly when the recipe is already published.

While the public seems obsessed with cooking right now, their understanding of the craft has not improved. Here’s an example from cookbook author David Leite: He told me a reader questioned his use of the term “separate the eggs.” She asked if he meant to move the eggs further apart.

Editors say people know less about cooking than ever before, so recipe writers have to explain more or use terms that everyone understands, such as “cook” instead of saute.” 

What are the terms most likely to make readers nervous? Here’s my Top 10:

1. Blanch
2. Braise
3. Cream
4. Deglaze
5. Dice
6. Dredge
7. Fold
8. Julienne
9. Poach
10. Reduce.

Do you agree? Are we dumbing down recipes by avoiding these terms, or doing readers a service? What other terms have I left off the list?

Photo credit: CC BY 2.0

Knopf Senior Editor Judith Jones in her well-appointed kitchen. She's still cooking.

Last week I was on a phone call with book editor Judith Jones about recipes. Her comments reminded me of an essay of hers I use as a handout, some of which is quoted below.

Here are the top three things she can’t stand to see in recipes:

1. In a bowl, combine… No one talks like that, so why write like that? She doesn’t like “combine,” either. She wants to know: “With a fork, a whisk, your hands, and for how long?”

2. Set aside. “What else would you do with it? Throw it out?” When I am editing recipes, I always edit out both that phrase and the word “reserve.” If you’re looking for brevity, here’s an easy way to start.

3. Put the mixture… This one really gets her going. “Why not call the component parts of a recipe by real names, such as batter, dough, or a custard, or a base? There was nothing wrong with the old-fashioned usage of ‘the dry ingredients and the wet ingredients.’”

“But no, you so much as add salt to your eggs and it becomes an egg mixture, and pretty soon you are mixing the first mixture with the second mixture, and the cook is having a hard time following which mixture is which.”

What do you think? Are any of these terms defensible? And what are your pet peeves in recipe writing?

Just read 5 Second Rule’s excellent post about whether recipes are boring, and it generated some thoughts about recipe length. (Isn’t it fantastic when an blog post idea arrives on a platter? Thank you, Cheryl.)

Now, some writers like to go long. They like to hold the reader’s hand and explain. Sometimes I’m surprised about how much handholding, though.

I edited a recipe recently that said: “If necessary, rearrange the oven racks to accommodate the large pot.” Otherwise people might not know how to fit the pot in the oven? Really?

At the other end is the trend of short-attention span recipe writing. Sunset just received an edict from parent Time Inc. that recipes must be shortened to 75 words. Can’t wait to see what that looks like. What does it mean for readers? That they already know how to cook? Or that they don’t cook anyway so it doesn’t matter? 

I had my own epiphany Friday night about short recipes, while cooking  Poulet Aux Olives from Claudia Roden’s The Book of Jewish Food. The instruction said, “Fry the onion in the oil til soft.” Looking for further guidance, I found none and panicked, momentarily. On what heat, in what size pan, for how long, I wondered? After all, when I edit recipes, I look for those clues.

Then I realized I have been sauteing onions for years. I know how to cook them until they’re soft. And I relaxed. It was the right amount of information for me.

What do you think about the length of recipes? What is the right balance of length versus explaining, and how long is too long? What should be the deciding factor about length?