"Powered by Giuseppe." That's NotCo's pitch. An AI named Giuseppe that can recreate the taste and texture of animal products using plants. It's a genuinely interesting technological story - machine learning applied to molecular gastronomy, analysing plant compounds to match the sensory experience of meat and dairy.
But here's what's been nagging at me: does "AI-powered" actually help sell plant-based food? Or does it trigger exactly the kind of scepticism that this category can't afford?
I ran a study with six US consumers to find out. The results were fascinating - and honestly, a bit concerning for any brand leading with technology claims.
The Participants
I recruited six personas aged 28-55, all primary grocery decision-makers. The mix was deliberately varied: a construction manager with a finance degree, a maintenance technician in Baltimore, an engineer between jobs in Chicago, a church-active mother of two in Grand Rapids, an operations engineer in Houston, and a former staffing professional in Phoenix now doing volunteer work.
What they had in common: they were all practical shoppers who cared about what they fed their families. Not ideological about food tech one way or the other. Just people trying to make good choices at the grocery store.
The Ambivalence Problem
The first thing that emerged was striking: nobody was clearly pro-AI or anti-AI. They were all somewhere in the middle, and that middle was uncomfortable.
One participant captured it perfectly:
"It sounds innovative and a little soul-sucking at the same time."
That sentence haunts me. It's not rejection - it's something more complicated. They can see the potential benefits. They're genuinely curious about the technology. But something about AI touching their food triggers a visceral unease that's hard to articulate.
The ambivalence ran through every response. Participants would praise AI's potential for scaling and consistency in one breath, then express concern about "averaged" flavours and hidden cost-cutting in the next.
Key insight: Consumers aren't anti-AI - they're conditionally open. But the conditions are demanding.
What AI Can Do (Behind the Scenes)
When I dug into what participants would actually accept AI doing, a clear pattern emerged. AI as a tool for back-end operations? Totally fine. AI as an author of what their food tastes like? Absolutely not.
The acceptable uses included:
Scaling production and maintaining consistency
Reducing waste through better supply chain predictions
Optimising nutrition per serving cost
Pantry planning and meal suggestions
But the moment AI touched flavour decisions, cultural recipes, or taste profiles, resistance spiked. One participant framed it as wanting AI to be "the sous-chef, not the chef." The technology should execute human decisions, not make them.
The "Optimised by AI" Disaster
When I tested the specific claim "optimised by artificial intelligence," something dramatic happened: purchase intent dropped across every single participant.
Not just didn't help. Actively hurt.
The participants read "optimised by AI" as:
A marketing gimmick to justify cost-cutting
An indicator that flavour had been "averaged" for mass appeal
A signal of hidden additives or ultra-processing
A potential privacy concern (why does my food need AI?)
This is a brutal finding for any brand that's invested heavily in AI messaging. The very thing that's supposed to differentiate the product is actively deterring purchase.
The Conditions for Acceptance
So what would it take for consumers to accept AI-assisted food products? The list was extensive and demanding:
Blinded sensory proof - independent taste tests with published win rates (target of 65%+ versus current products)
Clean labels - short ingredient lists with no artificial sweeteners and reasonable sodium limits
Price parity - no premium for AI claims; it should cost the same or less
Named human stewardship - a visible chef or food scientist who takes responsibility
Privacy assurances - explicit data minimisation and no smart-appliance scraping
Transparent change logs - before/after nutrition, ingredient changes, reason codes
That's a lot of hoops to jump through. And notably, the burden of proof falls entirely on the brand. Consumers won't give AI the benefit of the doubt.
Reformulation Detection (They Always Know)
An important tangent emerged: participants were acutely sensitive to product reformulations. They notice changes immediately through taste and texture shifts, salt and sweetness balance, cooking performance differences, and unit price adjustments.
This matters for AI because stealth reformulation - quietly changing a product using AI optimisation - would be immediately noticed and would destroy trust. One participant was emphatic: "If they change the recipe and don't tell me, I'm gone. That's lying."
The demand for change logs wasn't abstract. They wanted simple, numeric documentation: what changed, by how much, and why. No marketing spin. Just facts.
The Cultural Appropriation Concern
Something I hadn't anticipated: several participants raised concerns about AI and cultural recipes. The fear was that algorithms would "average" traditional dishes for mass appeal, erasing regional and cultural distinctiveness.
One participant called it "culinary erasure" - using technology to remix heritage recipes without credit or stewardship.
This suggests that AI in food isn't just a technology question - it's a cultural and identity question. Brands need to think carefully about how they position AI's role in recipe development, especially for products that draw on specific culinary traditions.
What This Means for AI Food Brands
If I were NotCo or any AI-forward food company reading this, here's what I'd take away:
Retire "optimised by AI" as a consumer-facing headline. Lead with taste, nutrition, and price instead. Use AI as a behind-the-scenes enabler, not a marketing message.
Establish human-in-the-loop tasting gates. Named chef or expert sign-off addresses the concern that "AI can't taste."
Publish simple change logs. On-pack or via QR code: before/after nutrition, ingredient deltas, reason codes.
Require independent blinded sensory proof. Target 65%+ preference versus current SKUs before scale-up.
Pilot in low-stakes categories first. Snacks, bars, sauces - places where innovation risk is lower. Keep a "Classic" SKU for side-by-side choice.
The Bigger Picture
What struck me most about this research was the gap between innovation storytelling and consumer reality. The tech story is genuinely compelling. An AI that can decode the molecular structure of animal products and recreate them with plants? That's fascinating.
But fascinating doesn't translate to purchase intent. Consumers don't buy technology stories - they buy products that taste good, cost what they expect, and don't make them feel uncomfortable about what they're feeding their families.
The path forward isn't to abandon AI - it's to reframe it. Make AI the enabling technology, not the selling point. Prove the product works through blind tastings, not tech narratives. And always, always maintain human accountability for what ends up on the plate.
Because at the end of the day, Giuseppe might be brilliant at molecular analysis. But consumers still want a human chef to take responsibility for whether it tastes good.
What the Research Revealed
We asked real consumers to share their thoughts. Here's what they told us:
Impossible Foods recently rebranded with bold red meaty packaging to appeal to meat-lovers. They say 90% of their customers are meat-eaters. Does that make you more interested, or does it feel like th
Semeka Valdez, 41, Unemployed Adult, Beaumont city, TX, USA:
Pues, mira, big bold red meat-y box just makes me roll my eyes harder. Feels like trying too hard. Like, calm down, it’s still not carne, me entiendes? “90% meat-eaters” doesn’t move me. Packaging screams juicy, but my brain hears pricey and my mouth remembers that kinda sweet, kinda fake bite. The red actually gives me more ultra-processed vibes, like louder label, same story. If it’s on clearance and Sofia asks, fine, I’ll grab it and drown it in sazón for tacos. But more interested because of the rebrand? No pues, wow, no. Give me better taste and better price, not a louder box.
Eric Landon Myers, 33, None, Cape Coral, FL, USA:
Feels like they’re trying too hard. Bold red and meat talk doesn’t change what it is, and if it’s plants, just own it. The 90% meat-eater thing sounds like a sales pitch to me; I still care more about price, the ingredient list, and whether it works in chili or tacos. If it’s a Publix BOGO or a buddy tosses some on the grill, I’ll eat it. Otherwise I’m grabbing beans or a piece of local fish.
Jared Maine, 35, Project Manager, Rural, CA, USA:
Short answer: not more interested. Bold red, “meaty” packaging just reads like they’re trying too hard. Doesn’t fix the spongy bite, the weird grill smell, or the price. I buy meat when I want meat, and I cook beans when I want plants. Calling it for meat-lovers feels like a pitch, not a change in what’s in the skillet. If a buddy throws one on the grill, I’ll take a bite and be polite. But I’m not spending my own money unless it sears right, tastes right, and costs like 80/20 on sale. Otherwise it stays in the novelty lane. But hey, I’m the guy who color-codes grocery lists, so grain of salt.
Jeffrey Rivera, 32, Senior Account Director, Tuscaloosa, AL, USA:
Not more interested. Bold red packaging feels like they’re trying too hard to cosplay meat. The box can scream steakhouse all day, but if it still cooks weird on the grill and the texture’s off, I’m out. That 90% meat-eater stat just sounds like a marketing flex to me - more like “we know you don’t want this, so here’s louder branding.” If they want my attention, show me a patty that throws a real crust on cast iron or the Traeger, has a short ingredient list, and costs like ground chuck. Until then, it’s lipstick on a freezer-aisle science project.
What would actually get you to choose a plant-based burger over a real beef burger at a BBQ? Be brutally honest - is there anything that would make you switch?
Jeffrey Rivera, 32, Senior Account Director, Tuscaloosa, AL, USA:
Brutally honest: almost nothing. If the beef looks sketchy - mystery tube meat sitting in the sun - or the host is vegan and only cooking plant-based, I’ll take the plant patty to be a decent guest. If a doctor had me on a tight cholesterol plan or I’d just had a nasty run-in with beef, I might switch. I’d also consider it if it actually seared like beef, wasn’t mushy, had a short ingredient list, and cost the same. Otherwise I’m grabbing the real burger, or I’ll just do grilled chicken and a pile of sides.
Christopher Mccarter, 42, Community Volunteer, Phoenix city, AZ, USA:
Brutally honest? Almost nothing. A good beef burger done right owns a plant patty nine times out of ten. I am not chasing hype patties. Situations that might make me pick one:
Only option - host is vegan or the beef ran out. I will be respectful in somebody else’s yard.
Doctor orders - if I get told to lay off red meat for a stretch after bad labs, I will grumble and comply.
Real taste win - blind grill-off, smashed thin, crispy edges, smoky, juicy, no weird aftertaste, and a short ingredient list I can pronounce. Has not happened yet.
Food safety - if that beef looks sketchy or undercooked, I am not playing stomach roulette.
Cash on the line - you toss me a bet and a crisp twenty, I will choke one down for the story.
Heat mood - if it is a scorcher and heavy food sounds dumb, I am probably skipping burgers period and grabbing chicken, not a plant puck.
Price - if it is cheaper than beef and not an ingredient essay, I might consider it. Might.
Bottom line: I am not switching for slogans or guilt trips. I will do it out of respect, necessity, safety, money, or a legit taste upset. Otherwise, I am sticking with beef or just doing chile-lime chicken and calling it a day.
Semeka Valdez, 41, Unemployed Adult, Beaumont city, TX, USA:
Brutally honest? Almost nothing. I like real beef on a hot grill. Smoke, fat drip, that crust. The fake stuff tastes sweet to me and kinda weird. Pero ok, there are a few times I’d switch:
Sofia asks me to eat the same as her so it’s not a whole scene. I’ll do it for her.
Homemade veggie patty - beans or mushrooms, crispy edges, good sazón. Not the fake-meat kind. I’d pick that over a dry beef hockey puck.
Sketchy beef vibes - gray meat, flies, cooler looks sus, grill guy undercooks. I’m uninsured, mija. I’m not playing food poisoning roulette.
Stomach acting up - grease days are rough. A plant patty with avocado and pico sits lighter for me.
Better build - toasted bun or bolillo, grilled onions, jalapeños, real salsa. If the beef option looks sad with cold cheese, I’ll grab the one that got love.
Someone I trust swears this brand actually hits and lets me taste a quarter first. Social proof or I’m out.
They ran out of beef or we’re doing a no-beef week for the kid and the budget. Fine. I’ll roll with it.
But if you’re asking normal day, full spread, everything safe and hot - I’m taking the beef. Don’t try to sell me with “ultra-processed” talk either. That word makes me back up real fast.
Jared Maine, 35, Project Manager, Rural, CA, USA:
Brutally honest? Almost nothing. If there’s beef at a BBQ, I’m grabbing beef. That’s the whole point of the grill to me. Only ways I’d switch:
Politeness: Host only has plant patties or they’re proud of a recipe and want feedback. I’ll play ball.
Food safety: The beef looks sketchy, sat in the sun, or is thick and undercooked. I’m not rolling the dice.
Doctor orders: If I’m on a short run of cutting red meat because labs are coming up, fine, plant patty it is.
Taste shock: Blind taste and it actually eats like a smashed, well-seared burger and the kids like it without faces. Then maybe.
Real veggie patty: A legit black-bean-jalapeño patty someone made at home, griddled with a crust. I’ll pick that over fake-meat stuff sometimes because it owns what it is.
Otherwise, nah. I’ll eat plants, just not plant-pretend-meat. But hey, I’m the guy who color-codes grocery lists, so grain of salt.
When you hear "plant-based meat" what is your honest gut reaction? And does hearing it called "ultra-processed" change how you feel about it?
Eric Landon Myers, 33, None, Cape Coral, FL, USA:
Gut reaction to plant-based meat: kind of meh. Tastes fine in tacos or chili where spices do the heavy lifting, but on a bun I get that fake aftertaste and it feels like marketing more than food. I’ll grab it at Aldi or a Publix BOGO, otherwise the price bugs me and I’d rather do beans or a piece of local fish. Hearing it called ultra-processed just makes me want it less, because long ingredient lists turn me off and I like knowing what I’m cooking. So for me it’s a sometimes thing if someone’s grilling it, not a staple in my kitchen.
Jeffrey Rivera, 32, Senior Account Director, Tuscaloosa, AL, USA:
Gut reaction: plant-based meat makes me think slick marketing and a freezer-aisle science project. I’ve tried a couple burgers and nuggets, and they’re fine buried under toppings, but the texture’s off and the price feels goofy for what you get. On the Traeger it doesn’t behave like meat, so it kind of kills the fun. Hearing “ultra-processed”: that just hardens my no. If I want lighter, I’ll grill chicken or just eat veggies as veggies. Net-net, I don’t crave it and I’m not paying a premium for it.
Christopher Mccarter, 42, Community Volunteer, Phoenix city, AZ, USA:
Gut reaction? Eye roll. When I hear "plant-based meat," I think marketing doing cartwheels. Just say veggie patty. Meat is meat, plants are plants. I am not anti-veggies at all, I love my collards and black beans, but I do not need my vegetables pretending to be brisket. I have tried a couple. One at a fast-food promo, one at a church potluck when somebody’s cousin went vegan. With enough sauce it was fine, but the texture felt off and the aftertaste lingered. Also sat heavy in a weird way. Then I looked at the ingredient list and it read like homework. No thanks. Does calling it ultra-processed change how I feel? Yeah, it just confirms my side-eye. I try to keep it simple these days. If I need to Google half the ingredients, I am not excited to put it in my body. And paying extra for that privilege? Hard pass. Bottom line:
Words: Sounds like hype.
Taste/texture: Passable, not satisfying.
Ingredients: Too long, too lab-y.
Price: Not worth it.
"Ultra-processed" label: Pushes me from curious to nah.
If it is the only option at a cookout, I will be polite, throw on some mustard, and keep it moving. But given a choice on a sunny Phoenix day like this, I am firing up real chicken with chile-lime rub and calling it good.
Semeka Valdez, 41, Unemployed Adult, Beaumont city, TX, USA:
Pues, mira, gut reaction to "plant-based meat"? Eye roll first, then a side-eye at the price. I think, ok fine, but is it chewy and kinda sweet? For tacos or chili, sometimes it works because I drown it in sazón. As a burger patty, mmm no, it tastes fake to me. Sofia likes it more than I do, I just take a bite and move on. When I hear "ultra-processed," yeah, that word makes me tense. I picture a long label with stuff I can’t pronounce and my stomach already says nope. I’m uninsured, so I get nervous about anything that might make me feel weird. Still, on a tired night, if it’s on clearance and Sofia wants it, I’ll grab it and not think too hard. Pero like, truth? I’d rather do beans or mushrooms and call it a day.
