Look, if you make something amazing, you should talk about it. Food is one of the best things humans have ever invented (right up there with fire, music, and really well-timed sarcasm). But there’s an art to discussing your food in a way that makes people intrigued rather than exhausted.

For example:

You’ve been working on your recipe for beef stroganoff for seven years. It was passed down to you by your great-great-grandmother, and you executed it faithfully for many years until one day you realized it could be even better. A little tweak here and there, some fiddling, and perhaps a little bit of dabbling in the recipe modifications that would make your great-great-grandmother’s toes curl, and suddenly you had it: not just the best beef stroganoff you’d ever had, but perhaps the best in the whole world.

People need to know!

Now, once you’ve gotten to this point, there’s a right way and wrong way to talk about your food. I know this because I’ve been the guy who talks about his food the wrong way many times. Perhaps more importantly, I’ve been the recipient of some rant by someone who takes their food too seriously and doesn’t know how to talk about it properly.

Trust me, the way you talk about your food matters.

I want to help you talk about your food in a way that people stop, listen, and perhaps ask for another bite.

Overview

The kind of thing I hear way too often (and used to say myself) goes something like this: “Here, try this. It’s so good. It’s SO good! There, isn’t that the best? It’s the best, right?”

I think just about every time I go to a potluck, I hear at least one person talking like this. I even hear it at cooking competitions! What’s wrong with it? It is aggressively needy, like a desperate street performer demanding applause. It gives the eater no room to form their own opinion because it bulldozes them with “It’s the best, right?”—which is code for "You better agree with me or I will be personally wounded." It’s also just kind of obnoxious. Just shut up and let the soup seduce me.

Now, compare the first needy phrase that is dripping with a need for validation to this:

"Here taste this, and then just pause after you've swallowed it. The flavor will change the longer you wait. I designed it as an evolving experience."

This phrase guides the eater without forcing an opinion down their throat. It invites curiosity, sets expectations, and encourages mindful tasting. Instead of insisting on greatness, it lets the person discover it for themselves. And that’s what makes something actually impressive—when the experience speaks for itself, rather than relying on hype-man antics.

How to Talk About Your Food Without Being Annoying

1. Don’t Spill Every Secret, But Don’t Be a Vault Either

Nobody wants to hear your full recipe unless they specifically ask. And even then, they probably don’t mean every measurement down to the quarter teaspoon. They’re just looking for the idea of how it came together—“Oh, it’s slow-roasted with a little honey and vinegar to balance it out” is a lot more digestible than, “Well, first I used exactly 14.2 grams of sea salt…”

At the same time, don’t be that person who treats every dish like it came from a lost civilization. Saying, "Oh, it's a secret recipe" makes you sound like a 19th-century snake oil salesman. It’s food, not nuclear launch codes. If someone’s genuinely interested, at least give them a general idea.

2. Read the Room—Not Everyone Cares

There is a time and place to wax poetic about the complexity of your broth. That time is not when someone is just looking for a quick lunch recommendation or when their eyes are actively glazing over. If someone bites into your food and says, “Mmm, that’s good,” they might just be enjoying it, not setting you up for a TED Talk.

The best way to tell if someone wants to hear more? Let them ask. If they don’t follow up with, “What’s in this?” or “How did you make this?” then congratulations, they are merely eating, not seeking enlightenment. Let them live.

3. Make People Curious, Not Overwhelmed

If you really want to get people engaged, frame your descriptions like an experience, not a grocery list. Instead of, “I used smoked paprika, lemon zest, garlic confit, and a dash of saffron,” try something like, “I wanted it to have a warm, deep spice with a bright little hit at the end.” See the difference? One feels like a checklist, the other makes them taste it in their head before they even take a bite.

Same rule applies when someone says, “This is good!” Instead of launching into a monologue, just drop a little hook: “I tried something different with this one—see if you can guess what’s giving it that smoky flavor.” Now they’re engaged, not trapped.

4. Don’t Be a Food Snob (Even If You’re Right)

We get it. You know the difference between a béarnaise and a hollandaise, and you would never use pre-ground pepper. But food should bring people together, not make them feel like peasants in your culinary kingdom. If someone says, “This reminds me of my grandma’s cooking!” and your first instinct is to say, “Oh, well, this is actually way more refined than traditional homestyle cooking…” just know that you are the problem.

Instead, lean into the connection. “That’s awesome—what did she make that was similar?” Boom. Now you’re having a conversation instead of giving a lecture.

5. Let the Food Do Some of the Talking

At the end of the day, if what you made is actually good, you don’t need to force it. Give people a chance to react. Let them enjoy the bite before you start explaining it. Sometimes, silence is the biggest compliment. If someone is too busy eating to say anything? Mission accomplished.

Example Phrases

Flavor Experience: "Give it a second—right when you think it's over, the last flavor sneaks in."

Technical Detail: "225°F, six and a half hours—just enough time to break it down without breaking it apart."

Minimalism Flex: "There are only three ingredients in this sauce. No filler."

Comparative Mystery: "This is kinda like a cross between X and Y, but with a twist."

Precision: "That crust is 30 seconds from burned but right in the sweet spot."

Sensory Guidance: "Smell it before you take a bite—the aroma hits first."

Expectation Subversion: "You think it’s going to be sweet, but wait for the smoke."

Challenge Their Palate: "See if you can pick out the secret ingredient."

Scarcity/Exclusivity: "This only happens when that market has the right citrus—so today, we’re lucky."

Personal Connection: "This started as my grandmother’s recipe—then I added my own twist. She'd either love it or yell at me."

Texture Highlight: "That crunch is exactly what I was going for."

Final Thought

Great food conversation is like seasoning—you want just enough to enhance the experience, but not so much that it drowns everything else out. Make people curious, let them ask, and don’t make every meal a culinary hostage situation.