We cook for everyone. That’s our promise, plain and simple. Screens, voices, keyboards, fingers, ears, eyes, whoever shows up, we’re here for them. Recipes belong to everyone, not only folks with the fastest phones, strongest glasses, or quietest rooms. Access isn’t extra. It’s baked in.
Our kitchen has no velvet rope. If someone wants to learn, scroll, laugh, scroll again, or just check a sauce recipe for the third time, great. Doesn’t matter if they're zooming in, listening instead of reading, or using only one button to move through things. This site’s got room.
Why We Care
Short story: we care because people matter. Longer version? Well, every recipe has a story, and every visitor brings one too. Maybe someone’s using a screen reader while stirring soup. Maybe another user’s working with slower Wi-Fi, low vision, or tired thumbs. They’re not “others.” They’re us.
We’ve read pages with buttons that don’t speak, forms that never explain, and videos that just play in silence. That’s not okay. That’s lazy. We’re building better, one sentence, one pixel, one option at a time.
Mischief thrives on inclusion. We want readers who pause between steps to stretch hands. Visitors who ask for captions before cracking eggs. Readers who flip pages without lifting a finger. Real people, real needs, real design choices. No exceptions.
How We Build
We test with people, not just tools. Screen readers, keyboard-only setups, voice navigation, zoom settings, we try them. Then we try them again. The site must be usable without stress or surprise. If someone can’t reach a page, that’s our mistake. We fix it.
Our colors? High contrast. Our fonts? Readable even during late-night snacking. Buttons are big enough for clumsy thumbs. Headings stay clear and logical. Code speaks in plain structure. No tricks. No hidden roadblocks.
Alt text gets attention. Descriptions make sense. No one wants “image123.jpg” when it could just say “golden-brown dumplings steaming on a bamboo tray.” We write descriptions like people will hear them read out loud—because they might.
What We Use
This site uses HTML that behaves. ARIA labels help where needed. Skip links exist for keyboard travelers. Layout stays flexible on any screen size, from giant TVs to tiny wrist screens. If someone changes settings on their browser or device, things still work. That’s the goal.
Our forms? Labeled properly. Error messages don’t disappear after blinking red. Navigation uses logic, not guesswork. Visuals aren’t the only way info gets shared. We use headings, text, structure. And no one has to scroll ten times to find what they came for.
Video content uses captions. If there’s audio, we give a transcript. If something flashes, blinks, or dances too much, we tone it down. Style matters. So does comfort. Readers won’t get trapped inside a carousel or lost in a tab that won’t open.
What We Avoid
Fancy tricks often mean frustration. We don’t build for “wow.” We build for “ah, this works.” Animations? Kept minimal. Autoplay? No thanks. Hidden text that only shows up after hovering perfectly? Nope.
Mouse-only elements, poor color contrast, vague labels, out the window. Forms with required fields no one mentions? Deleted. Tiny fonts with mystery links? Fixed. Disappearing menus? Not allowed.
We don’t copy what everyone else does. Just because a trend looks cool doesn’t mean it helps readers. We keep things bold, clear, flexible. If it breaks someone’s flow, we remove it. Nobody should fight with code to cook a meal.
Ongoing Improvements
No recipe ever reaches perfection. Same goes for our design. What worked last month might fall flat next year. So, we revisit, revise, check again. Accessibility isn’t a checkbox, it’s part of our workflow.
We study updates from W3C WCAG guidelines. We talk to folks using assistive tech. We open ourselves to feedback, criticism, suggestions. If someone flags a bug, we listen. If something feels clunky, we ask why. Feedback fuels the kitchen.
We test new tools. We rework old pages. We keep things readable, scannable, adaptable. Maybe today we fix keyboard traps. Maybe tomorrow we remove visual clutter. The work doesn’t end.
Language Choices
Words carry weight. Some confuse. Some include. We lean toward the second. Jargon goes in the compost. Directions stay tight. Recipes explain themselves. Jokes stay friendly. Text gets structured.
Screen readers don’t guess. So we write like clarity wins. Link texts make sense out of context. Buttons say what they do. No clickbait. No guessing games. If someone asks, “Where does this go?” we’ve missed something.
Big words don’t impress. Short words connect. We swap “utilize” for “use.” “Navigate” becomes “move through.” Why say “ensure compatibility” when “make it work” says more in fewer beats?
Visual Choices
Colors hold power. Contrast means readability. We keep ratios strong. Backgrounds don’t fight foregrounds. Highlights stay visible in sunlight, midnight, or color-blind vision. Icons need more than looks. We give them meaning.
Decorative images stay out of the way. Important ones get described. Design gets built around access, not added on after. Font choices lean large, generous, no tiny twists. Layouts flow from one device to another without requiring pinching, squinting, or rotating every second.
Even error states get kindness. “Oops” messages stay helpful. “Try again” doesn’t mean “you messed up.” Design should never shame. Only support.
Audio and Video Support
Sound adds flavor. But we never assume ears are available. All media includes captions or transcripts. If audio instructions guide a step, we also write them out. Users control playback, no loud surprises, no flashing images.
Animations use restraint. Nothing loops forever. Nothing auto-plays at full volume. Video players allow pause, rewind, slow down. We add keyboard shortcuts where we can. Everyone deserves control.
Sound cues include visuals. Visuals include narration. If something needs multiple formats to feel complete, we give that. Multisensory shouldn’t mean multi-confusing.
Testing, Always
We test before launch. Then again afterward. Code validation? Yep. Manual testing? Also yes. Screen readers? Used regularly. High contrast mode? Tested weekly. Zoom up to 200%? No problem.
We break things so users won’t have to. We borrow outdated phones, old monitors, wired keyboards. We unplug our mouse just to see what gets stuck. Errors spotted? We write them down. Then fix them fast.
Sometimes, things pass tools but fail real eyes. Automated checks help, but human checks rule. So we run both.
Feedback Welcomed
Mistakes happen. We’re not perfect, and we won’t pretend. Feedback builds us. If someone can’t reach something, we want to know. Bugs get tracked. Confusing layouts get reviewed. Conflicts between devices and code get smoothed.
Even tiny frustrations deserve attention. If a color seems odd or a button feels slippery, that’s reason enough to tweak. We care about the full experience, from landing page to last scroll.
Accessibility isn’t one person's job. We treat it as everyone’s responsibility. That includes content writers, designers, developers, testers, recipe contributors, even readers.
Recipes bring joy. Recipes connect people. That only works if everyone can join. Our design reflects that belief. Anyone, anywhere, should feel welcome flipping pancakes, watching tutorials, or just reading stories behind the dishes.
Mischief has space for every appetite, every screen, every voice. We build for readers who need something different. We don’t ask people to adapt. We adapt for them.
This isn't extra effort. This is just how things should work.