What will the diets of the future look like? The answer depends in part on what foods Westerners can be persuaded to eat.
These consumers are increasingly being told
their diets need to change. Current eating habits are unsustainable, and the global
demand for meat is growing.
Recent years have seen increased interest and investment in alternative proteins — products that can replace factory-farmed meats with more sustainable sources. One option is cultivated, or cultured, meat and seafood:
muscle tissue grown in labs in bioreactors using animal stem cells. Another approach involves replacing standard meat with such options as
insects or plant-based imitation meats. The question is,
will consumers accept them?
I’m a philosopher who studies food and disgust, and I’m interested in how people react to these foods. Disgust and
food neophobia — a fear of new foods — are often cited as obstacles to adopting more sustainable food choices, but recent history offers a more complicated picture. Past shifts in food habits suggest there are two paths to the adoption of new foods: One relies on familiarity, the other on novelty.
Brendan “Twig” Sheppard eats a roasted mealworm at a charity event in D.C. in 2014. (Linda Davidson/The Washington Post)
Disgust and the yuck factor
Scientists believe disgust evolved to protect human beings from invisible contaminants such as pathogens and parasites. Some causes of disgust are widely shared, such as feces or vomit. Others, including foods, are more culturally variable.
So it’s not surprising that self-reported willingness to eat insects varies
across nationalities. Insects have been an important part of traditional diets of cultures around the world for thousands of years, including the
Ancient Greeks.
Many articles about the possibility of introducing insects to Western diners have emphasized the
challenges posed by neophobia and “the yuck factor.” People won’t accept these new foods, the thinking goes, because they’re too different or even downright disgusting.
If that’s right, then the best approach to win space on the plate for new foods might be to try to instead make them more familiar.
“SURE WE'LL SHARE THE MEAT” from a series of World War II posters. (U.S. National Archives)
The safe route to food acceptance
During World War II, the government worked to make it seem patriotic to not pig out on the usual meat.
The United States government wanted to redirect its limited meat supply to troops on the front lines. So it needed to convince home cooks to give up their steaks, chops and roasts in favor of what it called
variety meats: kidneys, liver, tongue and so on.
A
team of psychologists and anthropologists was charged with studying how food habits and preferences were formed — and how they could be changed.
The
Committee on Food Habits recommended stressing these organ meats’ similarity to familiar foods. This approach — call it the “
safe route” — tries to remove psychological and practical barriers to individual choice, and counteracts beliefs or values that might dissuade people from adopting new foods.
As the name suggests, the safe route downplays novelty, using familiar forms and tastes. For example, it would incorporate unfamiliar cuts of meats into meatloaf or meatballs or grind crickets into flour for cookies or protein bars.
A selection at Love, Makoto’s Dear Sushi in D.C. (Deb Lindsey for The Washington Post)
The sushi route
But more recent history suggests something different: Sushi,
offal and even
lobster became desirable not despite of, but because of their novelty.
Sushi’s arrival in the postwar U.S. coincided with the rise of consumer culture. Dining out was gaining traction as a leisure activity, and people were increasingly open to new experiences as a sign of status and sophistication. Rather than appealing to the housewife preparing comfort foods, sushi gained popularity by appealing to the desire for new and exciting experiences.
By 1966, the New York Times reported that New Yorkers were dining on “
raw fish dishes, sushi and sashimi, with a gusto once reserved for cornflakes.” Now, of course, sushi is widely consumed, available even in grocery stores nationwide. In fact, the grocery chain
Kroger sells more than 40 million pieces of sushi a year.
During the 2000s, a new generation of
diners rediscovered offal as high-end restaurants and chefs offered “
nose to tail” dining. A willingness to embrace the yuck factor became a sign of
adventurousness, even masculinity.
Grilled cell-cultured chicken at the Just Meats development kitchen in Alameda, Calif., in 2023. (Carolyn Fong for The Washington Post)
The future of alternative proteins
What lessons can be drawn from these examples? For dietary shifts to last, they should be
framed positively. Persuading customers that variety meats were a necessary wartime substitution worked temporarily but
ultimately led to the perception that they were subpar choices. If cultivated meat and insects are pitched as necessary sacrifices, any gains they make may be temporary at best.
Cultivated meat may be “safely” marketed as nuggets and burgers, but, in principle, the options are endless: Curious consumers could sample lab-grown whale or turtle meat guilt-free, or even find out
what woolly mammoth tasted like.
Ultimately, the chefs, consumers and entrepreneurs seeking to remake our food systems don’t need to choose just one route. While we can grind insects into protein powders, we can also look to chefs cooking traditional cuisines that use insects to broaden our culinary horizons.
Alexandra Plakias is an associate professor of philosophy at Hamilton College.
This article was produced in collaboration with the Conversation, a nonprofit news organization dedicated to sharing the knowledge of researchers and scientists.
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