It’s not you, it’s me
You know when you’ve spent hours in the kitchen, carefully crafting what can only be described as a culinary masterpiece, and then you go to take a picture of it? It looks perfect in person—delicious, inviting, even Instagram-worthy. You snap the shot, check the camera, and suddenly it’s like you’ve just photographed something from a horror film.
“How did that happen?” you wonder.
It’s not the gluten-free food’s fault. It’s me. And my questionable photography skills.
The Lighting Struggle (AKA “I’m Just Guessing Here”)
Let’s start with lighting. There are rules about lighting in food photography, and I’m not sure I’ve ever followed a single one of them. I try to set up my shots near the window, but if it’s too sunny, I get weird shadows. If it’s cloudy, everything looks as sad as my last attempt at gluten-free bread. I’ve tried ring lights, but I end up looking like I’m in a hostage video.
It’s a mystery how something so simple as lighting can become such a disaster. But then again, my skill set in photography is basically limited to “point and click,” so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.
The Composition Catastrophe (AKA “Oops, I Forgot to Set It Up”)
Okay, I’ll admit it: I never know where to put anything on the plate. I watch those professional food photographers and think, I can do that. They casually arrange food on the plate like it’s an art project, and then boom—perfect shot. Me? I shove food onto a plate, throw a fork on the side, and hope for the best. If the plate doesn’t look like it’s been through a tornado, I count it as a win.
Seriously, how do people make food look like a Pinterest board and not a crime scene?
The “It Was Perfect Until I Took the Photo” Syndrome
My gluten-free dishes? Gorgeous in real life. The moment I try to photograph them, though? It’s like they morph into something unrecognisable. I think I’ve somehow triggered the “ugly filter” on my camera without realising it. That bowl of gluten-free pasta I spent hours making? Suddenly it looks like it’s been sitting in the fridge for three days.
How did I go from “This looks amazing!” to “Did I just take a picture of a food crime scene?” in seconds? Maybe it’s the angle? Maybe I should get a tripod?
The “Is This Even Food?” Effect
I don’t know about you, but there’s a moment when I take a picture of food and think, Is this even food anymore? My camera seems to have a special talent for making food look less appetising than it actually is. I can make a steaming bowl of soup look like someone’s unfortunate science experiment, and don’t even get me started on gluten-free pizza.
You’d think after years of attempting food photography, I’d have figured out how to make a pizza look delicious, but nope. Instead, it looks like a sad pancake that got a bit lost in the oven. Is it me or does the camera just hate my cooking?
The Editing Disaster (AKA “I Tried, Okay?”)
Ah yes, the editing. I’ve read a ton of tips online about editing food photos—brightening the colours, adding contrast, sharpening the image. Sounds easy, right? Not for me. No matter how hard I try, I always end up making my food look like it belongs in an ‘artsy’ indie film about the decline of modern civilisation.
The worst part is, I know I’m just one click away from perfection, but I always hit the wrong button. I mean, how do people turn a normal bowl of soup into something that looks like it came straight out of a Michelin-star restaurant?
The Conclusion: It’s Not the Food, It’s Me
So here we are, friends. Another week, another plate of food that tasted amazing but somehow looks like it was prepared by a toddler with no taste. The gluten-free ingredients? Top-notch. The recipe? Flawless. But my food photography? Well, let’s just say I’m not winning any awards anytime soon.
But hey, at least I’m consistent, right? And if nothing else, you can be sure that no one will ever mistake my photos for anything other than… well, “artistic interpretations” of food.
Maybe one day, I’ll get it right. Or maybe I’ll just keep sharing my lovingly imperfect shots with the world. Either way, I promise they’ll taste a lot better than they look.
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