When Did We All Become Afraid Of Being Amateurs?

not all influencers are experts — why do we expect them to be?

Photo by Alfred Kenneally on Unsplash

I’ve always found the miracle of the internet to be the sheer amount of information at your fingertips. A few click clacks on a keyboard and you can learn about basically any topic that feeds your curiosity. Want to know how to make a tiramisu but without any alcohol? Google will pull up at least 700 options to show you the way. Want to know where to get the freshest salads in Los Angeles? Or what to serve at a lemon-themed dinner party of 12? Or why Worcestershire sauce is called Worcestershire sauce? The answers are just a few keystrokes away.

Since the search engine was first introduced, there has been this implicit understanding in the relationship: those who searched the internet did not know everything. And while there was interest in a topic, there wasn’t always expertise — that interest wasn’t automatically conflated with expertise. That they were amateurs searching for more knowledge. While it is possible to graduate from amateur to expert with enough time spent immersed in whatever topic you care about, we, as a society, have all forgotten the art and pleasure in being an amateur. It’s okay to not know something. In fact, I’d argue it’s cool to not know something, be curious about it, and then set off to learn more.

But we live in an era where everyone insists they are experts — especially if they have any sort of following on the internet. That following often happens because they are good at consistently feeding the algorithm, not because they have something to say or expertise to present. And as they gain followers for feeding the algorithm monster, they start to believe in their own fallacy. Having followers does not mean that you actually have knowledge, but they are falsely equated. (This is not to say that feeding the algorithm isn’t a skill — it is. It just doesn’t automatically correlate with expertise.)

There is no better example of this than the thousands of food influencer accounts out there, constantly posting videos of their “critiques” on restaurants that just feel like an even more torturous form of those Yelp reviews that take themselves a little too seriously. Having the means to dine out often does not automatically make you an expert on food, restaurants, or dining culture.

I often think about the “review” of Semma, the charming and ambitious South Indian restaurant located in NYC’s West Village from the influencer account The VIP List. Semma has scooped up accolade after accolade, including a Michelin star, which is nearly unheard of for Indian restaurants and it remains one of the hardest tables to get in the city. Chef Vijaya Kumar is an incredibly kind and humble talent who has managed to showcase a breadth of South Indian dishes so rarely seen on restaurant menu anywhere. Yet, the two women behind the VIP list, whose main credentials are that they eat out at other NYC restaurants — though not necessarily good or important or diverse ones, decided that they were fit to “review” the restaurant. It’s clear from the grating voice over that they have zero knowledge about Indian food — the use of the phrase “tikki masala” was a dead giveaway — much less South Indian food, and why this restaurant is important and meaningful in the NYC dining scene.

They did not phrase this as simply an opinion video where they didn’t get the hype of a restaurant and maybe didn’t enjoy the food themselves. Instead, they acted as if they had authority without bothering to do even a basic amount of research when it comes to pronunciation or context. And the two women behind the account quickly became defensive in their comment section when people pointed out these basic issues, doubling down on their terrible catch phrase, “go cry about it.” If you want to be a true authority on the NYC dining scene, beyond where to eat over priced wagyu steaks and burgers with caviar on a PR company’s dime, it takes a bit of effort — effort that they seem unwilling to put in. But unfortunately in this era of the endless scroll, proclaiming yourself to be an expert enough times is all it really takes to be able to be seen as one. Hence, accounts like The VIP List gaining success.

It’s not just the Instagram and TikTok accounts, but some of the cookbook authors and bloggers, too. Accounts like Half Baked Harvest (aka Tieghan Gerard), who is wildly successful by all metrics, with several best selling cookbooks and 5.5 million instagram followers. The numbers alone, in followers, and cookbooks, could lead anyone to think that Gerard is a food expert, a masterful home cook with a deep bench of knowledge. And while she does take beautiful food photos, after reading her recipes or following her instagram account, it’s clear that she is mostly an amateur recipe developer that is treated as an expert due to the size of her following.

Gerard recently posted a recipe for “Baked Cheesy Cuban Chicken Taquitos,” a recipe that features Swiss cheese, red enchilada sauce, and a pineapple salsa. She writes on her website, “I’m sure I’ll get some comments about calling these taquitos Cuban, but I drew inspiration from the spices and flavors often used in Cuban cooking.”

What are the “Cuban” ingredients she thinks she is using? “Oregano, ground cumin, peppers, pineapple, and, of course, lots of citrus in the form of lime juice. Oh, and sea salt!” Most of these are flavors that feature more prominently in Mexican cooking, the cuisine from which taquitos originate. Perhaps if she had mashed some plantains for the filling or stuffed the taquitos with ropa vieja, it could read as Cuban-inspired. It almost feels as if she saw that a Cuban sandwich has Swiss cheese on it, so she added it to the recipe and called it a day.

It’s not surprising that Gerard’s recipes often lack context. She doesn’t seem to be that interested in food beyond what seem to be her comfort dishes: cheesy chicken things, chicken tenders, a nice classic Americana baked good, and one pot pastas. She can’t really speak to restaurants, or the food of other cultures beyond American comfort food and some Italian dishes.

A quick scan of the “Indian” food tag on her website reveals a handful of riffs on butter chicken, lots of shawarma recipes (something Indians do not claim), and even some Persian recipes. Gerard has been accused multiple times of stealing and ripping off recipes, especially more “ethnic” recipes, from other cookbook authors and recipe developers. Like The VIP List and other influencers who are amateurs but like to present as experts, she also does not ever bother to pronounce the name of ingredients or dishes from cultures not her own, correctly.

This pressure to present as an expert, without delivering what experts actually deliver — solid information! context! depth! — is exhausting. I wish all of these influencers, and quite frankly all of us, would relieve themselves and ourselves of this pressure. There is joy in being an amateur, and in not knowing. It can also translate to charming content.

I often think of Jon Kung’s series where he teaches himself to bake a pie. Kung is an influencer and cookbook author who is a true expert in the kitchen, especially when it comes to Chinese and Chinese American cooking, but he does not parade around acting as if he is an expert baker, too. Instead, he brings the audience along as he tinkers and learns and experiments with trying to nail this pie crust. It’s by far more compelling to watch than if Kung decided to act like he knew everything about pie crust and delivered a video that told and taught the audience basically nothing.

We often struggle to admit when we don’t know something, or are not great at something, but more often than not, that is where the magic really is. There is real power in admitting you are still learning. Most importantly, there is real fun in being an amateur.