When I first started blogging, I never got any comments. Each time a post would go out in the ether, I’d hold my breath a little, wondering if a kind soul would consider waving hello. I still remember my excitement when comments started coming in. Sometimes, I’d get just one, but others, I’d get 10, sometimes 20. I tried to thoughtfully respond to each and every one, grateful for the acknowledgment. Some comment threads would lead to interesting tangents, conversations. Others would just end with a simple ‘thanks!’
The more I started commenting on other blogs, the more people commented on mine, I found. I discovered a little community of like-minded friends; we’d comment on each others’ blogs regularly, apologizing for not having caught up if we didn’t leave a day-of comment.
I admit, sometimes I’d comment, just to leave a mark: “that looks delicious!” I’d take it personally that friends I interacted with regularly in real life didn’t take the time to comment on my blog posts. I’d drop things in conversation like, “Well, I wrote about this on my blogโฆ” As though expecting that they should be caught up on my life based on my Internet life. For many of my friends, though, real life and Internet life are very, very far apart.
A friend of mine who is a nurse practitioner doesn’t have a Facebook account, no less a Pinterest page. Few of my friends use Twitter. To them, this site might as well be a password-protected Livejournal.
This thing we do here, it’s utterly personal. And feels like real life, most of the time. Like chatter at the farmer’s market, or a coffee date with friends, the conversations, with many of my fellow blogger friends, don’t seem like they’re happening ‘on the Internet.’ It’s not this wild west thing, the Internet. To us, it has become the farmer’s market, the coffee shop. It is accessible.
The validation of getting comments can sometimes bleed into the desire for validation in real life, away from the computer screen. The more of us we put out, the more we tend to expect to get in return. Here and there, I ask myself: am I writing for comments?
And the answer I come back to, over and over again, is no. But deep down inside, a little voice says: but they are nice to get.
I’ve been thinking about validation, how much we crave it in our personal and professional lives. The pageviews and the promotions at work, the Pinteresting DIY projects, and the mommy wars. The Lean In Circles and the Kickstarters. We all want somebody โ or somebodies โ to tell us: Hey, you. You are doing GREAT!
That’s not just a problem of the Internet age, that’s an age-old human emotion.
So here we are, at the awkward end, right before I tell you about these baked fries and malt vinegar aioli, where you say to yourself, “should I leave a comment?”
You can, if you’d like. I’d like that. But if you don’t, and you read this post and go on about your day, that’s totally cool, too. I think I’ll still keep writing. Because at the end of the day, it makes me happy. And I’m in pretty deep here.
I’m reminded that regardless of whether you get a pat on the back or not โ a virtual high five โ it’s the stuff that makes you feel comfort inside that you should keep on doing.
Baked Fries with Malt Vinegar Aioli
*Aioli recipe adapted from The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook
For the fries:
3 large russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch thick matchsticks
2 tablespoons of olive oil, plus more for the baking sheet
salt and pepper
chopped flat-leaf parsley or cilantro
For the aioli:
2 large egg yolks
1/2 of a lemon
1 tablespoon of Dijon mustard
1 1/2 cups of canola oil
1 teaspoon of kosher salt
pinch of freshly ground black pepper.
1 teaspoon of malt vinegar
1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. To make the aioli: Combine the mustard, one tablespoon of water, egg yolks and a few drop of lemon juice in a food processor. Start the processor and gradually add a couple of oil drops. Very, very slowly, stream in the oil until you’ve incorporated about 1 cup of it. The mixture should be pretty thick.
2. Add another tablespoon of water and a few more drops of lemon juice, season with salt and pepper and continue slowly streaming in the rest of the oil, with the processor running on high speed. Set aside as you prepare the fries.
3. Briefly place the potato sticks in ice cold water. Drain, then toss the potatoes with olive oil, salt and pepper. Oil a large baking sheet, then evenly spread the potatoes in one layer. Bake for about 30 minutes (or until golden brown and crispy on the outside).
4. Sprinkle fries with cilantro and serve with aioli.
Homemade aioli will keep int the fridge in a sealed container for about 3 days. We like to eat these with beer-steamed mussels.
Musical Pairings: Widowspeak – The Swamps + Baked Fries with Malt Vinegar Aioli
ย More on the Turntable.
Sarah | The Sugar Hit
Oh wow, being the first commenter on this post is so much pressure. But hello! I love the point you are making here. I found myself wondering earlier today whether I wouldn’t be happier if I never published my work, just kept it to myself. And maybe I would, but I think I’d be losing something too valuable. This community is like the greatest farmer’s market of all time. Also, fries and aioli? A thousand times yes.
Kathryn
I get this. I so get this. I try to tell myself that I’m happy just writing my blog for me which is sort of true but I also check my email constantly after a post has gone live for that affirmation. It’s tough but I think you’re right that it’s not an internet issue – the internet just makes it easier to give and receive it (or to not give and receive it).
shannon @ a periodic table
Thank you for posting this: it’s given me the opportunity to say hello (after some comment sign-in wrangling, that is.) ๐ You’d think that after years of talking to people via my own blog that i’d learn not to be nervous about commenting for the first time on other blogs i love, but no; i still act like the nerd trying to say hi to the cool kids in school. I’m a classic introvert, so being the first to make a move isn’t my thing. I wish it were.
I love your blog: the writing is fantastic, the photos lovely, and the whole food + music thing makes me very happy. I enjoy reading it, and you’d never know it, but i’ve been a follower for some time now. I just never knew how to say hello (see cool kid explanation above). And this is a great post for me to begin with, because fresh-cut fries and aioli? one of my favorite comfort foods, and yours look gorgeous.
erin @ yummysupper
Kasey I totally hear you! The funny thing about blogs is that the majority of people who read them and cook from them would never think to comment (and many have no idea how to).
It’s hard to know what happens to our posts once they are out in the world, so it’s nice to get a little feedback, a pat on the back as you say, just to know that what we have created (and put love and care into) has actually been seen by a real person. It isn’t essential, but so appreciated.
And I for one, really enjoy this little community of ours and so appreciate the tasty beauty you share with us all!
xoxo
E
Shanna Mallon
I think about this a lot, too. Everybody wants somebody to love him or her, even when that love comes through simple blog comments or quick “nice job!” praise. It’s what we’re all hungry for as humans. I see it myself, like Kathryn wrote, when a post goes live and I wait for responses, and I see it in other people who are harsh or mean or sharp, on and offline, in response to not getting that love they deep-down crave. We all want someone to tell us we’re okay. Thinking about it makes me more eager to love and affirm and “good job” other people because we’re all in this together, you know? We’re all just people, the mean and the nice ones, and we all, bottom-line, want pretty much the same thing.
Fresh and Foodie
I’ve had similar feelings, too. Everything social has become very overwhelming — it’s like digital gratification has become more fulfilling than real-world gratification. Trying to bring myself back to reality, if you will.
hsimon
I’m lucky that I get to both comment AND see you tonight over a drink ๐ Any chance you can bring some of these fries to munch on….?
sarah kieffer
I appreciate your honesty. I have this conversation with myself frequently – I’m not blogging for comments, but gosh darn they are nice. Whenever I start worrying about them, I know it’s time to step back for a day or two and just get busy in ‘real’ life. I remind myself that I just can’t get to each and every blog I love and leave something, and sometimes I’m the person who gets skipped; it’s okay. But I always have to have a little talk with myself to get over it. ๐
michelle
I am chatty and would probably leave comments on every facebook, instagram, blog or twitter post I had ever seen if I didn’t try to sensor myself. I have always thought that leaving daily comments might seem stalkerish… I love this insight on a bloggers perspective. It has shown me that maybe leaving comments is just continuing a conversation. I truly love the bloggers I follow and I look forward to seeing their hard work show up in my lap. Some blogs have actually changed my life… maybe I better get busy telling them!
AS FOR YOU… the fact you include music with your food is huge for me!! Personally, I don’t make many of your recipes, my family eats a bit differently, but they all look amazing. However, I do pick music to cook to and music to eat to and it matters to me what is playing! I see music as the soundtrack for my life. If something inappropriate for the moment or something sucky is on… it is going to show up in the big picture! I try to avoid that. And also, I too am an audiophile and I appreciate a wide range of music, but the choices here rarely make it to my heavy rotation… BUT the fact you are doing it, and doing it well, keeps me peeking in. I have learned a few things here and have broadened my perspectives on both food and music. I enjoy the whole enchilada. Thanks! : )
tracy
I’m not very good at leaving comments because sometimes I just don’t feel like I have anything to add to the conversation!!! i definitely don’t understand why people say rude things though- i don’t know how that would make anyone feel good to send that out into the universe!
Nicole
And this post is exactly why I enjoying dropping by TTKitchen often. You mention topics that I was just thinking about or have thought about recently and through your writing, you explore it in a way that I find very interesting and gratifying. I just received a comment that said the writing was good, but that the photos were horrible. I was painfully aware that it could have wrecked my day right there, but I consciously chose to move on and keep doing my thing because it makes me happy. Also, I often think of Julia Child’s quote to never apologize at the table when you cook for someone and I feel like that extends to my blog. P.S. I meant to tell you that last Friday, Marc and I were just hanging out and didn’t feel like tv or a movie and I just started playing some of Matt’s tunes from here that I thought he would like. It was such a happy moment ๐ Your fries are beautiful and I love the sound of malt vinegar aioli.
Deanne Katz
Yes! This is such a good point about blogging. Even one or two (positive) comments makes my day on a blog post even though during the writing comments aren’t really the point and in fact I’m not a fan of comment fishing questions, at least on my own blog.
Kasey
Hey Sarah – no pressure at all. Hello! I completely agree that sharing is super valuable, even if it comes with added pressure ๐
Kasey
Ah! So nice to know other bloggers check their email to see what sort of response their posts are getting. The Internet for sure makes it easier to dish, and to also be a quiet bystander. In this weird way, it’s a very accurate reflection of who we really are as a society, as people.
Kasey
Hi Shannon! Thank you for introducing yourself. I understand that public comments can be a little nerve-racking, but this is a totally friendly space, so I’m glad you decided to say hello. Thank you so very much for your sweet words about our site. It is nice to see some quiet followers come out from the woodwork and make their voices heard!
Kasey
Hi Erin,
I do always appreciate your feedback and have to say your comments are always thoughtful and heartfelt…and clearly engaged. So thank you! I am glad we’ve connected through all this! Also, agree about some people having no idea how to actually leave a comment ๐ x
Kasey
We all just want to be loved ๐ I’m always shocked by people who take the time to leave a nasty comment…hiding behind a computer screen. On a few occasions, I’ve posted something and been afraid of a negative reaction but (thankfully) never received it. I think it’s important to remember that being humble is equally important in real life as it is on the Internet.
Kasey
Digital gratification is definitely a thing, I agree…I think it’s nice to think about these things so we can, as you say, bring ourselves back to reality here and there.
Kasey
Absolutely! Unfortunately, the fries are all gone, but hopefully there will be plenty of cheese and wine ๐
Kasey
Gosh darn, they are nice. Since I’ve had Neko, especially, I’ve realized that I just can’t keep up. And sometimes I just don’t read all the blogs I want to, and I’d rather not leave a half-hearted comment, but maybe come back when I’ve got more of an attention span. It’s good to have little talks with ourselves.
Kasey
Michelle, I appreciate your thoughtful comment! I don’t expect everyone who stops by here to cook our recipes or listen to all the same music we do, but I like that people can take bits and bobs of inspiration. Thank you for taking the time!
Kasey
I totally agree. Sometimes, something just looks pretty, or a story sounds nice, but it’s not quite relatable. Being rude on the Internet is just cowardly IMHO. x
Kasey
Thank you sweet Nicole! I must say that your comments consistently make my day (maybe I’m just blogging for comments from you? ๐ hehe). I’m sorry to hear someone left a rude comment on your site – it’s just plain insensitive. Few people realize what it means to spend your evenings writing, cooking and photographing, AND pouring your soul out into the Internet. But, we put it out, so I suppose a tough skin is a requirement. I love hearing that you and Marc spend your evenings much like we do. Kindred spirits! x
Kasey
Thank you, Deanne! I agree that it’s not about the number of comments, but their sentiment and quality. I actually don’t mind people asking for feedback – like I said in the post – everyone’s just looking for a connection. Thank you for stopping by and saying hello.
marijn
Aioli without garlic?? I don’t think so. This is mayonnaise. But the fries and mussels look great ;^)
Kasey
Technically, this is a mayonnaise (you are right, it has no garlic), but I’ve been to enough restaurants that refer to it as aioli, for the sake of the name, that I’m ok with calling it such. But you’re on it!
Meggan Hill
You’d have to be dead inside not to leave a comment on a post like this! Or just busy. But I’ve been there. In fact, I could have written your text myself, but you wrote it better. Hoping people from “real life” will stop by the blog… how hard is it to do, really?! LOL. Oh well. But high five to you for anticipating what so many of us are thinking, and pairing it with food I just want to lick off my monitor.
http://www.culinaryhill.com
cindy ensley
what a great topic, Kasey! I struggle with comments because sometimes I just have nothing to say of interest and sometimes I like to catch up on a ton of posts at once. I totally agree that getting comments is a nice…it’s totally like a virtual high-five!
PS, the fries and aioli sound amazing. Love that there’s malt vinegar in there…and mussels + fries are always a good idea!
Sonja / A Couple Cooks
Kasey, I love this! {And how can I not write a comment after reading?!} I’m constantly impressed by the way you craft words in such an eloquently fitting way. The way you express things is so beautiful most times I’m truly at a loss on how to comment. So I guess that’s my comment – I admire your writing dearly! And of course can sympathize so to the sentiment expressed. Before we started our blog I was completely baffled by the “commenting” enterprise — that people would say encouraging things to people they’d never met. It seemed ingenuine, until we became a part of the world and understood that real relationships are formed here. Anyway, you’re inspiring – keep it up.
Cookie and Kate
Oh, comments! I’ve been so bad at commenting lately that I probably don’t deserve any of the comments I receive on my own blog. I think I’ve been slacking lately because, a) there is so much great content out there, it’s overwhelming, and b) I have to organize my thoughts about the post in order to comment, and I’m so scatterbrained as it is. Comments are such a nice and welcome affirmation, though. I don’t know if I would keep blogging if it weren’t for them. I love getting comments from people who aren’t bloggers who have actually made my recipeโI love that they take the time to write me a little thank you note when they like the recipe. Anyway, I don’t say it enough, but I love what you do over here on Turntable Kitchen! Your posts are always thought provoking and sincere, Kasey.
Ian Coleman
I really hope you see this. I clicked on the link because the recipe intrigued me. And because the title held importance. I am so glad I did. I have been considering blogging about food for a very long time. This blog is just the sort of thing A new blogger needs to read and understand. Thank you for this well written piece.
Belinda@themoonblushbaker
I love to read a large number of blogs, (including yours) that have actual stories with the recipes. It shows me that they though about the post beyond the recipe and “drizzle picture”.
The unfortunate thing is that I do not know what to say afterwards, they have poured their soul out to me. I find that I can not find my words because the dull comment of “This looks fantastic!”, so it does stop me from commenting. I feel it is being very sincere to just say that.
Hoping one day I will be able to write like you, until then keep on your style of being so real about the early days blogging.
Brandon @ Kitchen Konfidence
Comments definitely make the blogging space a more interesting! I love getting them on my blog. My own commenting abilities wax and wane depending on my full time workload. Unfortunately, right now my workload is through the roof! It happens though – I don’t beat myself up for it. I know I can always comment again in the future ๐
These fries look delicious, and I can always add another “dippy” to my arsenal. Malt vinegar aioli sounds perfect!
Laura
Oh my. I remember the first comment I received on my blog. I didn’t even know how to react. The person had actually made the recipe and was telling me how much she enjoyed it. I had my laptop at my mom’s place and I yelled over to her in the other room “HOLY SHIT GUESS WHAT.”
SO MUCH has changed since then. A part of me expects it now, despite doing this whole thing mostly to serve as a creative adventure. As you say, it does feel like a real community, not just some ghost-y/vapour of a group on the computer. Just as real life, solid connections go, sometimes we all get busy, too busy to leave a thoughtful comment or whatever. But we still have a semblance of what’s going on in everyone’s life (thanks fb, twitter + insta!), what they’re into lately, and we’re rooting for each other regardless in some small way I think. Anyway, most ramble-y comment ever (had to). You’re awesome for writing about this. xo
Kasey
Ha! I think it’s easy to assume that everyone hangs out online when it’s such a big part of our lives, but it’s definitely not an accurate assumption (at least for my friends). I appreciate the note, and glad to hear so many people feel this way, too.
Kasey
I totally agree, Cindy. Sometimes, all you’d do in real like is wave or smile, but online, it feels like unless you really have something to say, you shouldn’t say it at all. I, too, often catch up on a lot of posts at once and sometimes I’m just not that creative! We do what we can, when we can, and sometimes, life gets in the way, or we’re just ok smiling to ourselves. ๐ Thanks for the note!
Kasey
Hi Sonja – you always leave such thoughtful comments. I actually sometimes get overwhelmed by the pressure to say something thoughtful on a post. I’m not a long commentator, and sometimes I think: is it worth leaving a comment if it’s just going to be a short hello? I lean towards yes. That’s me ๐ Thank you so so much for supporting what I do, and encouraging me, here and everywhere. You are one good egg (and inspire ME!). xx
Kasey
Oh gosh, Kathryne. I love your comments because they are always so real, as is your writing. After I had Neko I felt overwhelmed by comments. I read A TON, but letting people know I was reading was a challenge. I felt so guilty about it – as if I owed a good friend a phone call and just never got around to it. It’s nice to hear your honesty – that comments keep you going. One of my favorite things about our conversations is knowing that we’re often on the same page. <3 you.
Kasey
I see it! I see it! Thanks for leaving a comment, Ian. When you’re new to blogging, the whole comment thing can feel overwhelming but the community that develops is so encouraging. I appreciate you letting me know you liked the piece.
Kasey
Hi Belinda – I think the comment box has created an immense pressure – not just on blogs, but news sites, too – for people to chime in when sometimes, you just wanna read something and go on with your day. From this blogger’s perspective, no comment is a dull comment (some people may feel otherwise); it helps to know you’re not talking to an empty room. At the end of the day, we’re all very much the same.
Kasey
Hi Brandon! I love it when you pop by here. As someone who also works full-time in addition to running this site, I totally understand getting bogged down with work and just not having…time. I appreciate you making time to leave a note, despite your busy workload. I always appreciate what you have to say. Ya for dippies.
Kasey
Ha! I’m always surprised and thrilled to hear from a reader who has made one of my recipes. It’s the strangest/ most satisfying feeling to know that people make and eat your food…an extension of you! Things have definitely changed a lot for me, too, but much remains the same. Some of the celebloggers I used to only admire from afar have become normal people to me, which is a good reminder that for the most part, they are ALL NORMAL PEOPLE. I agree that with the prolifiration of social networks, you don’t need to read someone’s blog to get a peek into their lives. That said, these spaces of ours, they remain the heart and soul (IMO, at least). You’re awesome, lady. Inspiring me all the time. xo
Belinda@themoonblushbaker
I agree, getting comments no matter how short they are is such a highlight to my day. Also I love when people respond to my comment like you did. I guess everyone just wants to be acknowledged for the work they do.
Angela
Big BIG big virtual high five for everything you got going on here. I think what you’re doing is great. This piece you wrote is absolutely true and those fries..god I’m so hungry right now.
Aly M
I feel like I could add some Old Bay to this aioli and it would be similar to how I always had my favorite french fries. ๐
Sharon Graves
As someone who is still living the “no comments” life on my own blog, I say “Amen” to your answer, “No. But they are nice to get”. So, here you go!
Kasey
Thanks, Sharon! I appreciate it. And keep on doing what you’re doing – comments or not.
Kasey
Let us know how it comes out!
Kasey
Thanks, Angela! Very sweet words.
Sarah Copeland
Ditto, Sharon! And beautiful (honest) post, as always Kasey! AND those fries look SO good.
Kasey
Thanks, beautiful!
Jill
Wish there was a “like” button. I could show my support without the pressure of figuring out what to comment on. Love reading your blog. Look forward to new recipes, stories about life, new ideas, and places to visit in SF. Keep writing.
Lisa
It is refreshing to hear that so many bloggers feel this way. I guess it would have to be a common theme when there are thousands of people sharing little pieces of themselves online. Of course, that’s also what often leads me to question what I could possibly add to that pile. Then, of course, I will think of something that I just have to share, and another post appears, comments or not. Still, I keep dreaming of the day when my blog becomes a conversation rather than a monologue.
Thank you for sharing!
Kelsey
Such a treat to stop by your site and see this post a month after it launched. Reading the comments and dialogue was especially compelling and I’m still fascinated by our universal human craving for affirmation, acknowledgement… that “do you see me, do you hear me, do I matter to you or the world?” dark voice that at times can paralyze us from the inner truth that: yes, you are very much okay. This all will linger a bit.
I’m guilty of probably not touching base often enough. I drop in on twitter from time to time and realize that whoa: I’m very much not in touch, which, I happen to really like. I got rid of my blogroll in March and have since found myself happening upon posts and blogs as I have time. Like tonight, for instance: I’m sitting in bed drinking a beer with the house to myself, organically compelled to meander about the web. It feels…. good. It feels natural and unforced.
In any case. Time gets away from me, and us all, but I hope you know I care for you and Matt and Neko dearly and deeply. xo
Asha
haha.. spot on! I half read this post a couple of days back and googled it back right now to finish reading. It is a human thing to seek validation and we do it in different ways with different people. Whenever I put up a post, I anxiously wait for a comment. I get frustrated when I see that there have a fair few readers for the post and yet no comments.
There is that need for validation, yes. But, there are other ways of gauging that. What I seem to seek more is engagement. I would like to correspond with my readers and feel rather cheated at not having the opportunity to…
Besides there is also the relative progress issue. Why my comments don’t increase over time? Why I used to get so many more before and so few now? And I don’t have answers to these which is really annoying to me ๐
sara forte
All makes complete sense to me. Sometimes in a fit of frustration, I realize that I just want someone to tell me I’m doing a good job – or they’re proud of me. I’ll even ask hugh to do it, even though it looses some luster when I asked for the affirmation ๐ Keep writing. Quiet people are always reading, my friend.
Kasey
Thanks so much, Jill! I really appreciate it. No need to feel the pressure of commenting. But it is nice to get the occasional hello!
Kasey
Kelsey! You are my favorite. My wish is that in 2014 I can see a little more of your beautiful face in person. Since Google Reader went away, I’ve also found myself reading fewer blogs, but the quality ones…I come back to. Not always on the day they post, and I don’t always leave a comment, but I do love the serendipity you speak off. I am fond of you so, lady. xo
Kasey
Lisa, I definitely understand the yearning for conversation. Keep at it, and write about things that you care about deeply. The conversation will come.
Kasey
Asha,
I think the amount of people out there who comment is much smaller than those who read silently. ๐ That said, I say, try not to spend too much time number crunching. I’ve heard from people via email, and sometimes in person – folks who never leave comments. I think people feel pressure on the Internet – to say something original, insightful. Commenting is a commitment! It’s natural to want to get some feedback. I’ve found that writing truthfully and honestly about things that I am sometimes actually afraid to publish elicits the most heart-felt feedback. So, more of that on the Internet, I say!
Kasey
I do that a lot, ask Matt to remind me that what we do here, it’s time well spent, that people care. I don’t think it diminishes the value of that affirmation ๐ And it’s so true that quiet people read a lot ๐ xo
Matt Wilson
I’m happy to say that this post both inspired me to make my first comment, and strengthened my resolve.
About six months ago, I began working on my own blog (shameless self promotion: http://www.warmhousecoldbeer.com), and the first six months have been really personally gratifying but also a tad lonely. By no means am I working on this project just to generate site traffic and external validation, but at the same time, we don’t do these things publicly on the internet unless we want to share. As a result, it’s hard to look at your site traffic and see those early strings of zero visit days.
I’m still yet to receive my first comment, but I’ve finally started seeing some viewers trickling into the site, which is motivating (even if it is mostly just the result of bombarding my facebook friends).
But it’s good to be reminded that momentum builds slowly over time. Most of us see a site like this with a lot of content and a lot of engagement and are pretty impressed, and we should realize that those characteristics evolved over time, not over night. But hearing it laid out plainly inspired me to lean into what I’m doing even more.
Keep doing what you’re doing. Thanks.
Micky Vranic
This is such an interesting little company! I love it! And I am sure I’ll be doing some browsing for weekend meal ideas :).
And I totally know that excitement that comes with new comments. I’m closing in on a year and a half of blogging, and I’m still very unknown, just plugging along and exploring. But it’s totally not about anyone reading in the end. I just like exploring myself and my voice through this medium.
P.S you food photography is outstanding :).