Nick Mancall-Bitel, a senior editor at Eater supervising travel coverage and the international maps program, is at the center of our story.
In June, Maria Hammonds made a bold move by taking her digital cookbooks off her website. The blogger behind the Instagram account Deep Fried Honey and the corresponding recipe site of the same name had crafted five e-books since 2018. Her readers could purchase these online through Paypal or Venmo and receive them as PDF downloads. For Hammonds, these books were a means to get compensated for the time-consuming and costly efforts she put into a project that wasn’t her main job.
However, once Hammonds started receiving sufficient ad revenue from the site to be properly remunerated, she decided to remove the books. “I’m a communist. I was never in this for money,” Hammonds declares. “I prefer for things not to be behind a paywall. Money is scarce, and I’m very particular about how people spend it to support me.” Since her followers might fret about losing access to recipes that were only in the books and not on her blog, she announced plans to transfer everything to the public website.
But there was a hitch. Just a few weeks after she announced her decision to take down her cookbooks, a minor uprising occurred in her email and social media inboxes. A recipe – baked spaghetti – had gone viral, bringing in a wave of new readers who desired the books before they vanished, despite Hammonds’ caution that they were paying for something that would soon be available for free. Reluctantly, she put the books back up, at least until all the recipes were replicated on the site.
This intense demand wouldn’t astonish any Patreon supporter, newsletter subscriber, or any other devoted subscriber in the new creator economy – but it might shock a professional publisher. Digital cookbooks have struggled to gain traction with big publishing houses, despite the potential of Amazon’s Kindle and other e-readers. According to the NPD Group, a market research firm that monitors book sales, Americans purchased 2 million digital cookbooks in 2019 compared to nearly 20 million print books. Both figures rose in 2021, reaching 3.6 million digital books and almost 23 million in print, but digital cookbook sales declined through May, even as print sales continued to rise.
There are several obvious reasons why e-cookbooks might face difficulties. In our culture, we idealize the food-stained pages of a print cookbook, a physical emblem that can be passed down through generations. There are also practical disadvantages to referring to an electronic device in the middle of a recipe in a messy kitchen. Additionally, cookbooks as a genre have been gravitating towards the coffee table, where they serve as decorations as much as cooking guides.
“In general, illustrated books and books with structured lists and tables are less effective as digital titles,” remarks Brian O’Leary, the executive director of the Book Industry Study Group. “Many [e-]readers are still e-Ink [a display technology that mimics ink on a page], not in color, so cooking pictures are less captivating. And structured data like a list of ingredients can occupy an entire screen while providing little context. Other genres with more or all text are a more natural fit for digital devices (so far).”
But where large publishers see meager returns, small independent creators spot opportunities. Self-publishing in print has always offered advantages to writers: greater artistic freedom, direct interaction with audiences, the ability to communicate directly with a community of readers without meddling editors, and an affordable way to bring their ideas to fruition. Digital cookbooks are no exception, and there are often significant benefits to producing a cookbook on a smaller scale, especially since creating a digital book DIY has never been easier with user-friendly graphic design software.
Independent recipe creators do encounter many of the same challenges as publishing houses when it comes to convincing readers to pay for digital downloads (plus a few additional obstacles unique to self-publishing). But for some, self-publishing digital cookbooks can be a substantial source of income, at least sufficient to cover the costs of running a website and stocking a pantry. Since advertising networks typically require creators to reach minimum traffic targets before allowing them to sell ads against their content (anywhere from 10,000 page views up to 100,000), it can also be a first step towards monetizing a passion project along with virtual classes, YouTube videos, and product endorsements.
For author Karen Agom, who writes about Nigerian-American food on Nwa Bekee, a book was a personal financial objective. “I was working with a business coach and it was part of our plan to have a product,” Agom says about her first book, Revamp, which she published in 2021. “I wanted to have an opportunity to see how it performed without further complicating it by looking for a distributor or having to physically mail copies myself.”
That doesn’t imply it was effortless. Agom had to personally handle the writing, editing, marketing, and selling of her new book. As a small personal brand with a couple of thousand followers, she was concerned that there wouldn’t be much demand for her product, especially a non-physical one. But she quickly found success in promoting her book to her established audience, who were more than willing to pay for an ebook. “We live in a very progressive age, where digital goods are viable, and there’s a market for that.” She also provided instructions on printing the book in case customers preferred a tangible product over a PDF.
With a book under her belt, Agom also feels better equipped to approach publishers for deals on follow-up works. “I think I’ve demonstrated what I can do on my own. I’d be interested to see what a publishing company could offer that I couldn’t,” she states. While her first book focused on adaptable recipes and meal prep to encourage healthy habits, one of Agom’s main interests in the kitchen, she says her next book will center on Nigerian and West African dishes. In negotiating a book deal, she would bring her established audience to the table.
For self-publishers like food blogger and photographer Ksenia Prints, digital cookbooks are often a smarter investment than print. When she decided to self-publish her 2016 book, Middle Eastern Small Plates, “it was obvious it needed to be electronic,” she says. Since many freelancers already host their own websites, they can produce e-cookbooks for just the cost of design, eliminating shipping and commerce platforms like Amazon that take a cut. A professional designer, like the one Prints collaborated with, might charge hundreds or a few thousand dollars, but she says many people create their books using graphic design tools like Canva. “I received requests to do a print addition, but upon examination, I wasn’t certain the cost justified the expense. I wasn’t sure I would obtain the return on investment for that,” Prints says. “For those who grew up with print media, there’s something incredibly magical about seeing your name in print and holding it in your hands. It’s nostalgia. But that’s not a practical reason.”
Before she chose to self-publish, Prints pursued that dream by circulating a proposal for a print book. But “I wasn’t very drawn to some of the proposals I was receiving from publishing houses,” she says. Unless authors have a large built-in audience from their websites, many publishing contracts require authors to bear the costs of promoting the work. “If the publishing house offers you a sufficient package or support around those promotional costs, like a tour, then it becomes somewhat more appealing. If you’re handling all the promotion yourself, you might as well self-publish,” Prints remarks. Publishers would also give her some control over the content, but would dictate the structure of the book and its appearance; they wanted to bring in another photographer or had specific requirements if Prints was to produce her own art. “You had to surrender a lot of artistic freedom,” she says. “The approach is: A publishing house knows what works, they have limited budgets, and if you want to be published with them you need to accept that.”
From an external perspective, it might seem reasonable for publishers to set the terms of their investments. But the stakes are high for food writers, who often feel that their recipes are delicate expressions of identity that can easily be misunderstood by outsiders. While creative freedom is a common principle for self-published authors, it’s especially crucial for online writers today, when audience perceptions of authenticity can make or break a creator. Recipe authors work diligently to establish authority with readers, and they risk that by allowing editors to interfere with their recipes.
For instance, in 2014, Amanda Ponzio-Mouttaki, the writer behind Maroc Mama (and an Eater contributor), produced her own digital book, My Moroccan Kitchen. She initially saw the project as a stepping stone to a book deal – until she had doubts. “If I collaborate with a publisher, then I’d need to have someone else telling me what could or couldn’t be included based on their target market and what they think people would want,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to adjust or adapt recipes to fit. For example, the [combination] of tagine and couscous I see all over Moroccan cookbooks when that just isn’t a thing.”
This concern isn’t merely about creative liberties; it has financial implications. Ponzio-Mouttaki was able to convert blog fans into cookbook customers by leveraging the personal connections and trust she had built. “I think that people are willing to pay when they are invested in you and can see that what you offer is valuable,” she says. With a publisher dictating content in the midst of that relationship, that bond could easily be fractured and the value to audiences lost.
Agom echoes this sentiment, highlighting that digital cookbooks are particularly valuable in communities founded on trust. “People aren’t just seeking recipes. They’re seeking accountability,” she says. “We live in an era where we are inundated with information. There isn’t a recipe out there that doesn’t exist for free. But due to this flood of information, people are overwhelmed. They don’t know if they have a reliable source or not. If it’s a cultural dish, they might not be familiar with the ingredients or substitutes.”
Readers overwhelmed by the vast sea of internet recipes can turn to e-cookbooks for guidance and curation. But there are also numerous highly online home cooks who don’t need assistance deciding what to make for dinner. They might purchase digital cookbooks because they feel more exclusive than mass-consumed free options, or more purposeful and finite than recycled cooking trends. Others might derive a sense of virtuous satisfaction or see an ethical obligation to support the individuals who develop their diet. It means something to directly support creators.
But popular demand isn’t always as wonderful as it seems. “People on the internet, especially if you’re a creator, think that they, as the audience, drive you. It’s kind of like approaching a teacher and saying, ‘I pay your taxes.’ There’s a sense of entitlement that comes with it,” Hammonds says. She also points out that a name on a digital cookbook isn’t a guarantee of credibility. “There’s just not a lot of integrity in this because it’s the internet. I know people are now looking at cooking on the internet like, let’s get rich, let’s make money, let’s get followers.” Without naming names, Hammonds says she’s witnessed people stealing recipes from established bloggers to repurpose that content on newer platforms like TikTok where it appears unique. “These people become popular on TikTok and others ask how to support them, so the next thing they do is compile all these stolen recipes into an ebook and sell it.”
While she personally makes an effort to credit her sources and inspirations, Hammond casts some (justified) skepticism on the entire creator economy. “As people on the internet, y’all don’t know us. You can’t trust us blindly,” she says.
But even if intentions often falter in the chaos of the internet, the desires driving the ecookbook world seem genuine. Independent authors aim to serve their communities and earn money on their own terms, and readers want to support creators. For Agom, it has worked out so far. “It’s been a very symbiotic relationship with [readers] supporting me and me meeting their needs as well. That’s just how to be a good creator and entrepreneur,” she says. In this context, a self-published ecookbook can be a gateway, not only to external goals like financial success, but also personal fulfillment. “It’s honestly been one of the most rewarding things I’ve done this year,” Agom says. “Most cooks aspire to be picked up by big publishers, but this process has been empowering, to know that I’m capable of achieving my dreams on my own until those opportunities arise.”
Jennifer Luxton is a California-born, Seattle-based editorial illustrator and graphic journalist.
