About Big Chocolate Recipes

What changed, and what it changed for you

When *Big Chocolate Recipes* began, it was just a place to dump my grandmother’s old notes alongside whatever I found online. The recipes were hit-or-miss, the photos were phone-camera disasters, and the site itself was a mess of tabs and half-finished drafts.

I thought people just wanted quick ideas, so I didn’t bother with the details that actually matter—like why a recipe fails or how to fix it.

Now, every recipe is built to work the first time. The photos are shot in the same kitchen light, the steps are tested until they’re foolproof, and the site itself is designed so you can flip between techniques without getting lost.

The goal wasn’t to be perfect—it was to make sure that when you followed a recipe here, you’d end up with something that tasted like it came from a kitchen you trusted.

The one that took years

The biggest mistake was treating recipes like instructions instead of stories. I’d write them as if the reader already knew everything—no context, no warnings, no sense of why a step mattered.

It wasn’t until I started reading the comments (the angry ones, mostly) that I realized people weren’t just looking for a list of ingredients. They wanted to know *why* something worked, or how to save it if it didn’t.

For years, I resisted changing it. I thought keeping it simple meant leaving out the details, and I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong.

The turning point came when I finally tested a recipe *myself* before posting it—not just once, but twice, with deliberate mistakes the first time to see where people would trip up. That’s when I realized how much easier it would be if I just told the truth up front.

Now, every recipe includes a ‘What Could Go Wrong’ section, and the site has a ‘Troubleshooting’ guide. The real cost wasn’t money; it was pride.

Admitting I’d been doing it wrong for years wasn’t easy, but it made the site actually useful.

Meet the author

I used to think cooking was about following rules. My grandmother’s kitchen was where I learned that if you didn’t measure right or temper the chocolate just so, the whole thing was ruined. So I wrote recipes like they were math problems—no room for error, no room for fun.

I’d get frustrated when people didn’t follow them exactly, because I believed there was only one right way to do anything.

The thing that went badly? I once spent three hours trying to perfect a ganache for a post, only to realize halfway through that I’d bought the wrong kind of chocolate.

No one ever saw it, but I still remember how useless that felt—not just the wasted time, but the way it made me doubt whether I even knew what I was doing.

What changed was the day I realized my grandmother didn’t care about perfection. She cared about flavor, and laughter, and the way a recipe could bring people together. That’s when I stopped writing like a chef and started writing like someone who actually cooks at home.

Now, I’m Delia Barrera, and this is where I share recipes that work—even when you mess up. Every technique, every tip, and every variation is here because it’s something I’ve tested, or fixed, or loved enough to want to pass on.

What did not change

The core idea hasn’t wavered: this site exists because I believe the best recipes are the ones that feel like they were made for *you*, not just for a perfect kitchen.

The love for chocolate, the nostalgia for old family dishes, and the stubborn refusal to treat cooking like a science—those things were here from the start, and they’re still here. The only difference is now I actually explain why they matter.

I still write the way I talk—no fancy words, no pretentious phrases. If I wouldn’t say it out loud while stirring a pot, it doesn’t belong here. And I still believe the best meals are the ones that taste like they were made with joy, not just technique.

The rest is just details.

What is still being fixed

Right now, we’re working on making the site even easier to use for people who are new to baking.

That means more visual guides for techniques like tempering chocolate or folding in whipped cream, and a search function that actually understands slang—like when someone types ‘melted chocolate’ instead of ‘tempered ganache’.

If you’ve ever gotten frustrated trying to find the right recipe or follow a tricky step, you’re not alone.

If you’ve got a recipe that always works for you but never turns out right here, or a technique you wish we’d explain better, the contact page is where to tell us about it.