Test Kitchen

I applied research methodology to cooking because my brain can't NOT systematize things.

The Origin Story

Here's the thing about doing a PhD: it rewires how you think. After five years of designing experiments, controlling variables, and documenting every outcome, you can't just... cook dinner normally anymore. I'd make a great stir fry, have no idea what I did differently, and the next attempt would be mediocre. I was generating data and throwing it away.

So I built what is essentially a lab notebook for the kitchen. Not a recipe app—a system for running cooking experiments and actually learning from them.

How It's Organized

Protocols are the base methods—how to properly sear a steak, make a roux, temper chocolate. Think of them as SOPs. Each one documents the variables that matter, the timing, and the expected outcomes. When a protocol works reliably, it becomes a building block for everything else.

Runs are the experiment logs. Every time I cook, I document what actually happened—not what I planned. Specific ingredients, substitutions, timing observations, and results. These link back to the protocols they're based on. Over time, the runs tell a story about what consistently works and what was a fluke.

Series are focused improvement cycles. When I decide to perfect something—like my ramen broth—I create a series that tracks multiple iterations side by side. Same dish, different variables, compared systematically.

Dishes & Menus are the finished products—composed recipes built from proven protocols and informed by run data.

Why Astro + Git

I chose Astro because it treats content as a first-class citizen. The whole knowledge base is Markdown files in a Git repository, which means I get version history for free.

Plain Markdown also means the system will outlast whatever software trend comes next. No vendor lock-in, no subscription, no app that shuts down. Just text files I own.

What Surprised Me

The biggest surprise was how much implicit knowledge became visible once I had to write it down. I "knew" things from experience that I'd never articulated—like how the sound of oil in a pan tells you the temperature, or that resting time matters more than cooking time for most proteins. Making that tacit knowledge explicit made it shareable and improvable.

I also didn't expect how much the system would change my actual cooking. Having a structure for experiments made me more intentional. Instead of randomly trying things, I started forming hypotheses and testing one variable at a time. Not every meal needs that rigor. But for the dishes I care about perfecting, it's been transformative.

The meta-lesson: the tools you use shape how you think. Building a structured system for something I already did casually didn't just organize information—it changed how I approach the activity itself.