It’s Okay To Love Lava Cake
To be paid for food writing, you’re required to sign a contract riddled with non-negotiables. Some are obvious—caring about Ina Garten, treating ramp season like Christ’s resurrection—while others are more discreet (using the phrase “having a moment” weekly). While I appease nearly all of these obligations (I need money), there’s one I will not succumb to: pretending chocolate lava cake isn’t an enjoyable meal-ending bite. Woah. Lava cake positivity. We haven’t seen that sort of edge since Bourdain chastised sliders. If the self-importance embedded within my lava endorsement provokes your inner monologue into ridicule and sarcasm—same. But here’s the problem: I’m legally bound to construct this type of artificial controversy. Over the last few years, the big wigs at the recipe factories installed a Hot Take Addendum (HTA) into their writers’ contracts—a contingency clause that allows us to break non-negotiables so long as we treat our dissenting opinions with a geopolitical seriousness. Read More >>
To be paid for food writing, you’re required to sign a contract riddled with non-negotiables. Some are obvious—caring about Ina Garten, treating ramp season like Christ’s resurrection—while others are more discreet (using the phrase “having a moment” weekly). While I appease nearly all of these obligations (I need money), there’s one I will not succumb to: pretending chocolate lava cake isn’t an enjoyable meal-ending bite.
Woah. Lava cake positivity. We haven’t seen that sort of edge since Bourdain chastised sliders. If the self-importance embedded within my lava endorsement provokes your inner monologue into ridicule and sarcasm—same. But here’s the problem: I’m legally bound to construct this type of artificial controversy. Over the last few years, the big wigs at the recipe factories installed a Hot Take Addendum (HTA) into their writers’ contracts—a contingency clause that allows us to break non-negotiables so long as we treat our dissenting opinions with a geopolitical seriousness.
