Yourstrulyme

Cookbooks are fascinating. The bold text, vivid images, thick glossy pages, and all those colors — a complete sensory treat. My cooking experiments are quite recent, and I don’t own a cookbook yet. But I love looking through them whenever I’m at a bookstore, a library, or my brother’s place. I enjoy reading the stories behind recipes — whether it’s a grandmother’s special dish or a wedding anniversary cake ritual. The narrative adds a personal touch to every creation. The cultural connections and historical origins behind recipes always catch my attention.

I often think about how authentic, creative, and trusted these authors must be for their cookbooks to become bestsellers. They turn into our go-to guides in the kitchen. These authors come from different parts of the world, writing about their cuisines while embracing local culture and heritage.

That said, my connection with cookbooks is minimal. Local cooking shows on television were my first introduction to food content. I loved how chefs challenged contestants with new themes every week. My favorite part was always the tasting — when the dish got its name, the innovation was explained, and the visuals themselves felt like a treat.

Later, social media took over. I got interested in cooking because of the countless reels and videos on digital platforms. I now know names of dishes from authentic Indian recipes to international delicacies. I use these platforms in two ways — sometimes I come across recipes by chance, save them, and try them later; other times, I search for a specific dish when I need it. It’s easy, convenient, and quick.

But there’s another thought that stays with me — has the expertise slowly diluted over time? From the masters to professionals, the spotlight now seems to be on influencers. My journey from an amateur cook to a more intuitive one has definitely been shaped by them. Still, I often wonder — are cookbooks still important to truly become an expert? Or have they found their own charming place in the digital world?