Every few months, the internet declares a new food as the second coming of flavor itself. Suddenly, everyone’s “obsessed,” restaurants sell out, and your friend group chat is full of people saying things like “you have to try it.” But let’s be honest, half these dishes taste like disappointment wrapped in marketing.
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We post them, hashtag them, even pretend to savor them. But deep down, we all know the truth: we’re eating for the aesthetic, not the experience. Here are six “it” foods that should’ve stayed in the group chat.
Pumpkin Spice Everything

The official scent of fall and personality of every oversized sweater. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice cookies, pumpkin spice hummus, yes, that exists, and no, it shouldn’t. Somewhere along the line, pumpkin spice stopped being a flavor and became a seasonal cult.
It’s sweet, spicy, oddly orange, and yet every sip feels like you’re drinking a candle. We buy it anyway because autumn marketing is a powerful drug. Nothing says “cozy vibes” like pretending your tongue isn’t sticking to your teeth from all the sugar.
Acai Bowls

They look like health, happiness, and good lighting had a baby. But after the first three spoonfuls of icy purple smoothie sludge, the magic fades fast. You’re left chipping away at frozen fruit while granola shrapnel attacks your gums.
The toppings always look more delicious than they taste, and halfway through, you realize you paid twelve dollars for glorified sorbet. Still, it photographs beautifully, and that’s what really counts. Because in 2025, eating something ugly is basically a crime against the algorithm.
Cauliflower Everything

Cauliflower really had its moment. It became pizza crust, rice, mashed potatoes, and even buffalo “wings.” We clapped like it was performing miracles, but let’s be honest, it’s still cauliflower. It tastes like steamed air wearing a disguise.
No matter how many spices or sauces we throw at it, it can’t replace carbs. Yet we pretend we’re fooled, nodding politely while our souls cry for real bread. Somewhere, an actual potato is shaking its head in pity.
Tasting Menus

Nothing says “I’m fancy” like paying $200 for nine bites of confusion. You sit there, nodding solemnly at each “course,” pretending to detect subtle notes of foam and regret.
The waiter describes each dish like it’s a TED Talk, and by the time dessert arrives, you’ve memorized the menu but still haven’t eaten anything resembling dinner. You go home, take off your dress shoes, and immediately make toast. But hey, you’ve got twelve new photos and an inflated sense of culture.
Activated Charcoal Drinks

Nothing says wellness like sipping on something that looks like motor oil. Charcoal lattes, charcoal lemonade, charcoal ice cream, it’s like someone decided burnt toast should be a lifestyle. You drink it and instantly question your life choices, but your reflection in that moody black cup looks so mysterious that you push through.
It promises to “detox,” though no one knows what that means. You finish it, brush your blackened tongue, and feel lighter, spiritually, maybe, but digestively, not so much.
Avocado Ice Cream

Because regular ice cream wasn’t weird enough, someone made it taste like guacamole without salt. It’s the definition of a trust fall gone wrong. It’s cold, it’s green, it’s creamy, but not in a good way.
You take a polite spoonful and say, “Wow, that’s… interesting,” which is code for “I hate this but don’t want to seem uncool.” The texture is unsettlingly smooth, like a food you’re not supposed to eat but can’t stop trying to understand. It’s culinary Stockholm syndrome at its finest.
Trendy foods come and go, but our commitment to pretending they’re amazing is eternal. We’ve mastered the art of fake enthusiasm because nothing tastes better than fitting in. Maybe one day we’ll stop chasing “Instagrammable” and start chasing “actually delicious.” Until then, pass the overpriced toast.





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