These consumers are increasingly told their diet needs to change. Current eating habits are unsustainable and the global situation demand for meat increases.

Recent years have seen increased interest and investment in so-called alternative proteins – products that can replace typical meats with more sustainable alternatives. One option is farmed or cultured meat and seafood: muscle tissue grown in the laboratory in bioreactorsusing animal stem cells. Another approach is to replace standard meat with options such as insects or plant-based imitation meats. All of these products promise a more sustainable alternative to factory-farmed meat. The question is, will consumers accept them?

I’m a philosopher who studies food and disgustand I’m interested in how people respond to new foods such as lab-grown meat, insects, and other so-called alternative proteins. Disgust and food neophobia – fear of new foods – are often cited as barriers to adopting new, more sustainable food choices, but I think recent history offers a more complex picture. Past changes in eating habits suggest that there are two paths to adopting new foods: one based on familiarity and safety, the other on novelty and excitement.

Disgust and the yuck factor

Disgust is a strong feeling of repulsion in response to objects perceived as contaminating, polluting or impure. Scientists believe it evolved to protect humans from invisible contaminants such as pathogens and parasites. Some causes of disgust are widely shared, such as bowel movements or vomiting. Others, including foodare more culturally variable.

It is therefore not surprising that reported willingness to eat insects varies across nationalities. Insects have played an important role in the traditional diet of many cultures around the world for thousands of years, including Ancient Greeks.

Numerous articles on the possibility of introducing insects to Western or American diners have highlighted the the challenges posed by neophobia and “the yuck factor”“People won’t accept these new foods, the thinking goes, because they are too different, or even downright disgusting.

If so, the best approach to saving space on the plate for new foods might be to try to make them resemble familiar menu items.

The Safe Path to Food Acceptance

During World War II, the government tried hard to make it seem patriotic to not gorge on the usual meat. US National Archives/Flickr, CC BY

During World War II, the United States government wanted to redirect its limited supply of meat to troops on the front lines. It was therefore necessary to convince amateur cooks to abandon their steaks, chops and roasts in favor of what he called varied meats: kidneys, liver, tongue, etc.

To understand how to change consumption habits, a team of psychologists and anthropologists was tasked with studying how food habits and preferences were formed – and how they might be changed.

THE Eating habits committee recommended emphasizing the similarity of these offal to available, familiar and existing foods. This approach – call it “safe route” – focuses on individual attitudes and choices. It attempts to remove psychological and practical barriers to individual choices and counteracts beliefs or values ​​that might dissuade people from adopting new foods.

As the name suggests, the safe route attempts to minimize novelty, using familiar shapes and tastes. For example, this would include incorporating unfamiliar cuts of meat into meatloaf or meatballs, or grinding crickets to make flour for cookies or protein bars.

The sushi route

But more recent history suggests something different: foods like sushi, waste and even lobster have become desirable not in spite of but because of their newness and difference.

The arrival of sushi in the post-war United States coincided with the rise of consumer culture. Dining out was growing in popularity 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 who prepares comfort food, sushi has gained popularity by appealing to the desire for new and exciting experiences.

In 1966, the New York Times reported that New Yorkers dined on “raw fish dishes, sushi and sashimi, brilliantly once reserved for cornflakes.” Today, 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. While the safe path suggests introducing new foods into our diet, the sushi path suggests accepting their novelty and using it as a selling point.

Sushi is just one example of a food adopted via this route. At the turn of the millennium, a new generation of the guests rediscovered offal like the high-end restaurants and chefs on offer”from nose to tail” eat. Rather than positioning foods like pig’s tongue and ears as familiar and comforting, the willingness to embrace the yuck factor has become a sign of adventure, even masculinity. This framing is exactly the opposite of the safe path recommended by the Committee on Eating Habits.

The future of alternative proteins

What lessons can we learn from these examples? For dietary changes to last, they must be framed positively. Persuading customers that mixed meats were a necessary wartime substitution worked temporarily, but ultimately led to the perception that these were poor choices. If cultured meat and insects are presented as necessary sacrifices, the gains they enable may be temporary at best.

Instead, producers could appeal to consumers’ desire for healthier, more sustainable and more exciting foods.

Cultured meat can be “safely” marketed as nuggets and burgers, but, in principle, the options are endless: curious consumers could taste lab-grown whale or turtle meat guilt-free, or even discover it. what did the woolly mammoth taste like.

Ultimately, chefs, consumers, and entrepreneurs looking to rethink our food systems don’t need to choose just one path. While we can grind insects into protein powders, we can also look to chefs who prepare traditional cuisines that use insects to expand our culinary horizons.

Alexandra Plakiasassociate professor of philosophy, Hamilton College

This article is republished from The conversation under Creative Commons license. Read the original article.