One dish from what you have
List what is in your kitchen and get one dish you can make — real quantities, timed steps, and a substitute for anything missing.
How your list is read, and what the checks catch
The pantry reading is a real quantity parser, not a keyword search. It handles
400g, 1 1/2 cups, half a lemon,
a couple of eggs and 2-3 tbsp; it knows that
1 400g tin chopped tomatoes is one tin weighing 400 g rather than one of
something called “400g tin chopped tomatoes”; it folds a duplicate line instead of counting it
twice; and it treats a comma as “next ingredient” on a one-line list but as a description on a
multi-line one, so 6 chicken thighs, bone in, skin on stays one ingredient. Then
it reads categories — is there a fat, an acid, an aromatic, a protein, a starch — because a
pantry missing one of those changes which dishes are reachable at all.
The allergen pass covers the fourteen major groups and knows the traps that make naive word
matching worse than useless: coconut milk, oat milk, cashew cream and peanut butter
are not dairy, and butternut squash is not butter. It is still only a
word match over what you typed, which is exactly why it is used to challenge the
recipe's own declaration rather than to replace it — if the dish lists butter and forgets to
say “dairy”, this page says so.
Everything the parser establishes is sent to the model as facts it has to reconcile, and the recipe is then checked back against them: an ingredient claimed to be in your kitchen that this page cannot find, a piece of equipment you did not tick, step minutes that do not add up to the promised time, a total over the budget you set, an ingredient you asked to avoid, a diet broken, a verdict that says nothing needs buying next to a shopping list that is not empty. Each one is shown on the page rather than smoothed over.
Scaling is arithmetic and it is free. Masses and volumes scale straight; whole things — eggs, cloves, thighs — round to the nearest half and the page tells you it rounded rather than hiding it; and seasoning deliberately does not scale linearly past one and a half times, because quadrupling the cayenne makes a dish nobody can eat.
It reads and it writes. It does not know what is in your cupboard beyond what you typed, it cannot see a label, and it is not a nutritionist, a dietitian or a food-safety inspector. Nothing to hand? Load , , or . All three replay a saved run for free.
What comes back, and what a run costs
The recipe is chosen from what is in your kitchen rather than picked first and shopped for afterwards. That is the whole method, and it is what makes the answer a dish you can start now instead of a dish you could make after a trip to the shop.
It opens with a fit verdict — makes-it, needs-a-substitute or needs-a-shop — and one sentence naming the single fact that decided it, so you know why before you read further.
Ingredients carry real quantities in grams and millilitres, each one marked as something you have, a substitute, a staple, or something to buy. Steps are numbered, each with minutes, heat and a doneness cue, and hands-off steps are marked so the timeline can fill them with something useful. Substitutions give the ratio and say what they change about the dish, not just what to use instead.
Conflict warnings come before you pay: butter in the list with vegan selected, or an ingredient you asked to avoid typed into the pantry. Diet is enforced literally across nine diets plus an unrestricted setting, and it catches the hidden cases most checks miss — fish sauce, anchovy in Worcestershire sauce, gelatine, animal rennet and stock cubes.
Every pantry flag gets a reconciliation: the recipe has to answer each one, and the page marks it confirmed, set aside with a reason, or not mentioned at all.
A revision is a second run on the same dish — make it faster, drop the dairy, use the oven instead — and the page diffs the two versions ingredient by ingredient rather than handing you an unrelated recipe. Signed in, your cook history saves to your account with semantic search, so the one with the chicken and the tinned tomatoes is findable without remembering its name.
Scaling is arithmetic and it is free, across nine serving sizes from 1 to 12. Masses and volumes scale straight; whole things — eggs, cloves, thighs — get honest rounding to the nearest half and the page tells you it rounded rather than hiding it; and seasoning deliberately does not scale linearly past one and a half times.
Exports: a plain-text recipe card, Markdown, JSON, ingredients CSV, steps CSV, the shopping list, and print. They always carry the quantities as shown on screen, so a recipe scaled to six exports scaled to six.
Cost
The recipe itself runs on a metered model and needs an account. The figure beside the run button is a hold, not a price: it reserves against the full output cap, and what is actually charged is usually well below it. The minimum shown beside it is the floor a run needs to start at all.
Everything else is free and needs no sign-in: the pantry reading, the allergen and diet checks, the conflict warnings, the scaling, every export, and the three saved example recipes. None of it leaves your browser.