Why WebTopCooks Says No to Ads: One Food Blogger’s Bold Choice

Hi, I’m Bob—better known in some circles as The VeganDM. I created WebTopCooks as a way to document my journey from a complete cooking neophyte to what I like to call a “kitchen master” (or at least a seasoned enthusiast). Along the way, I discovered a love for WordPress. Seriously, I dove in headfirst—joining dozens of WordPress user groups across the country, long before Zoom and Discord made virtual meetups a thing. I attended local WordPress meetups, tested countless plugins, and before long, WebTopCooks was powered by WordPress. It just made sense.

WebTopCooks: Where Recipes Come First—No Ads, No Nonsense

Like many aspiring bloggers, I initially dreamed of making money from my sites. I poured time, effort, and more money than I care to admit into the project, but the net result? Zero dollars. That’s when it hit me—I wasn’t cut out for the monetized web. I hated the sneaky ads, invasive pop-ups, endless mailing lists, and—don’t even get me started on Buzzfeed. That’s when the idea for WebTopCooks came to me: a No Ad site. A place where good food and good conversation come first—without the commercial clutter.

WebTopCooks: A Breath of Fresh Air in a Monetized World

So here I am, sharing my kitchen experiments, lessons learned, and the frequent epic failures—all in the spirit of keeping the internet a little less noisy and a little more delicious. Welcome to the journey!

How My Journey Started: The Day My Stomach Declared War

One morning, I woke up feeling like my stomach had decided to host a small riot. It wasn’t the worst pain I’d ever felt—more of an annoying throb, like my insides were slightly annoyed at my dinner choices from the night before. I figured I could tough it out, so I dragged myself to work, convincing myself it was just a mild case of too much leftover chili.

By the next day, however, the rebellion had escalated into a full-scale uprising. I was doubled over in pain, curled up in a fetal position, clutching my stomach like it held a ticking time bomb. It was debilitating agony that made every breath feel like a mistake. I called my boss, begging him to drive me to the hospital because I genuinely thought I might not survive the walk to my car.

Turns out, I was suffering from something called Diverticulitis. (see Mayo Clinic article) Sounds impressive, right? Like some mysterious curse. The doctor laid out my options: surgery or a lifelong commitment to healthy eating. Surgery sounded terrifying, and that is when I glanced out the hospital window and saw his brand-new Porsche gleaming in the parking lot. I realized that my suffering might just be funding his next luxury upgrade. I chose the diet. “For the rest of your life,” the doctor reiterated, as if I’d just been sentenced. I nodded, mostly to make the pain stop. Little did I know, that decision would change everything.

The next morning, I walked into my kitchen, determined to take control of my life and deny the medical community another fat paycheck. That’s when reality slapped me in the face. I looked at my meager culinary skills—microwave popcorn, making mac and cheese from a box, and the fine art of opening a can of soup—and realized I was pathetically unprepared to wage this war. It was either learn to cook or risk my intestines staging another coup.

So, I spent the next 25 years teaching myself everything from slicing onions to roasting vegetables like a pro. Am I a great cook? Not by a long shot. But in all that time, I’ve never had another flare-up. My stomach might still hate me occasionally, but at least now it respects me.