Bon Appétit's coconut-blackberry margarita arrives as something other than a recipe — it's a declaration of correctness, marked by the framing "better than witches' brew," that positions one specific preparation as the right one and readers lacking it as making something inferior.
This replicates exactly what happened to cocktail culture between 2010 and 2020. In 2008, craft cocktail bars were expert spaces where bartenders made choices you couldn't replicate at home. By 2015, those same choices had been democratized and repackaged as consumer obligations.
The mechanism was identical to what Akerlof described in the market for lemons — once information asymmetry collapses, the middle collapses too. You cannot hold both "expertise is worth paying for" and "here is the correct way to do this at home" in the same market. One of them has to win.
What won was gatekeeping disguised as democratization. Every Instagram-optimized recipe from premium brands positions itself as the authoritative version. Make the wrong margarita and you are not simply making a drink you prefer. You are making the wrong drink. The pleasure shifts from discovery to compliance. Your attention narrows to a single prescribed path.
A reader scrolling past this recipe knows exactly what it is—a product positioned as wisdom, novelty dressed as authority.
In 2015, when this move was fresh, readers still felt the charge of exclusivity even as it was being commodified. Now the move is visible, which means the pleasure it promised has evaporated. A reader scrolling past this recipe knows exactly what it is. A product positioned as wisdom, novelty dressed as authority. Watch what people actually make at home. They are returning to drinks they genuinely prefer, not the ones they were told were superior. The authority claiming to guide taste is losing the only currency that made it worth following. The illusion that it had discovered something you couldn't have found alone.