Stop Telling Me It’s Easy, Ditching Ultra-Processed Foods CAN Be Hard

My cousin told me the other day that making salad dressing is "literally the easiest thing in the world." Just mix oil and vinegar, add some mustard, and shake it up. Takes 30 seconds.

Okay, but I've made salad dressing more times than I can count in the past year.

About 12 of those attempts were edible. The rest ranged from "aggressively bland" to "did I just remix straight vinegar?" One memorable batch separated so violently in the fridge it looked like a failed science experiment.

Meanwhile, my fave store-bought dressing costs around 7 bucks, tastes exactly the same every time, and doesn't require me to wonder if I'm supposed to use white wine vinegar or apple cider vinegar or if the ratio is 3:1 or 2:1 or whether adding honey will help or just make it weird.

Making your own salad dressing might take 30 seconds of physical work, but it also takes some weeks of failed batches to figure out what we're doing. That's not the same thing as easy.

When "Easy" Means "I Forgot What It's Like to Not Know This"

I've been cooking for years, and there are still recipes that kick my behind.

Last month I tried making my own almond butter and it took three attempts to figure out my blender wasn't powerful enough and I needed to add oil. Three batches of expensive almonds turned into gritty paste before I figured it out.

No harm done though, I just froze the “butter” in ice cube trays for use in smoothies.

But someone who's been making almond butter for a decade? They'll tell you it's effortless. They forgot about the learning curve. They forgot about the failed batches they fed to their chickens (actual thing someone mentioned in a forum, and yes, I'm jealous they have chickens).

Almost everything's easy when you already know how. The problem is when we forget to mention that part to beginners.

The Kitchen You Don't See

There's this assumption baked into a lot of "just make it yourself" advice that everyone has the same setup.

A spacious kitchen.
A stand mixer.
A food processor that can actually handle all sorts.
A well-stocked pantry with every ingredient already on hand.

I've seen people suggest buying a $500 KitchenAid like it's no big deal. I've seen recommendations for specialty equipment, heritage grains, fancy fermentation crocks.

Not everyone has counter space for extra appliances.
Not everyone can stock five different types of vinegar for dressing experiments.
Some people are working in tiny kitchens with one cutting board and a dull knife, sharing a fridge with three roommates.

Maybe someday, yes. But in the meantime, what can they do in their current kitchen while still making changes to the types of food they eat?

The Learning Curve Has a Cost

You want to know one thing that often stops me from making more things from scratch? The cost of failure. That almond butter experiment? Over $50 in almonds before I got it right.

Or take yogurt.

Making yogurt is often described as cheap and simple. Milk plus starter, that’s it. And eventually, that’s true. But when you’re learning, every batch comes with uncertainty.

If it doesn’t set, you don’t know why. Was the milk too hot and killed the cultures? Too cool to activate them? Was the starter weak? Did your kitchen drop below the right temperature overnight?

You can do everything “right” and still end up with warm milk that smells vaguely like yogurt but isn’t quite there.

At that point, you’re stuck making a decision. 

Do you keep going and hope it thickens? Do you strain it and call it “Greek-style”? Do you start over because you’re tired of guessing? There’s no clear signal telling you what went wrong, and that uncertainty is part of the cost.

None of this means people shouldn’t make yogurt at home.

It just means the “easy” version skips over the part where you’re learning through trial, error, and second-guessing. 

That learning phase is real, and it asks for time, attention, and patience that not everyone has available all the time. Sometimes choosing the consistent, boring option is what allows you to keep moving away from ultra-processed foods, slowly but surely. 

The Fear Factor

Fermented foods have their own special kind of intimidation.

With regular cooking, worst case scenario is you waste some ingredients and order pizza. With fermentation, you're managing living bacteria and hoping you didn't accidentally grow something toxic.

I still remember staring at my first attempt at sauerkraut, trying to figure out if that white film on top was kahm yeast (harmless) or mold (throw it out). I had three browser tabs open and a growing sense of dread.

Eventually I just threw it out because I couldn't handle the anxiety of not knowing.

Store-bought sauerkraut costs around $5 and comes with a safety guarantee. Your homemade version comes with your best guess and a prayer. That's a genuine barrier that "just try it, it's easy!" doesn't address.

To be clear, I’m not saying nothing ever gets easier.

Some things absolutely do.

But they only get easier after you’ve built systems, learned shortcuts, and figured out what actually works in your kitchen and your life. Calling that end result “easy” skips over the hardest part, which is getting there in the first place.

What I Actually Want to Hear

Instead of "it's so easy to make everything at home," I want to hear "here's what actually made it easier for me."

Tell me about the failed batches.
Tell me how long it took you to get comfortable.
Tell me what equipment actually matters and what's just nice to have.

Tell me it's hard. Tell me it takes practice. Tell me you still mess it up sometimes.

Because when we're honest about the effort, we can actually help each other. We can share real strategies for making it work in real kitchens with real constraints. We can celebrate the small wins instead of thinking everything should be effortless.

Some days I make my own salad dressing and feel like a champion. Some days I buy rotisserie chicken from the grocery store because I'm exhausted and that's what I can manage.

Both of those days count. Both of those days are me doing the work of ditching ultra-processed foods.

The journey away from UPFs is worth it. But it's still a journey. 

So no, making salad dressing is not "literally the easiest thing in the world." It's a skill that takes time to develop, ingredients to experiment with, and patience to get right.

And that's okay. We can admit that and still do it anyway.

That's the real strength.