Are we all in a race to the new popular restaurants in town?

It’s safe to say that most of us love food, not just for filling our tummies but to feed something deeper. A bowl of rajma-chawal comes with a spoonful of ghee-laden nostalgia. Making red Thai curry by following a YouTube recipe brings a quiet sense of achievement. And that weekend cheat meal after a week of eating clean feels thoroughly earned. Bonus points if the indulgent dish has a name we’ve never heard before, served at a restaurant like Farmlore in Bengaluru, where a 10-course degustation dinner begins at 6:30 pm. They’re not just feeding you good food; they’re making sure you eat early. If it’s a Sunday, even earlier, at 6 pm.

These restaurants are notoriously hard to get into. Reservations open weeks in advance, and a spontaneous craving is not welcome here. Try walking into Papa’s in Mumbai at 8:30 pm because you suddenly feel like having rabbit sausage rolls sprinkled with red ants, and you’ll be sorely disappointed. This restaurant that has hosted Ranveer Singh, Alia Bhatt, Ranbir Kapoor, Anushka Sharma, Virat Kohli, and Dua Lipa, is fully booked a month ahead. The slots open on the first of every month and sell out faster than COVID vaccination appointments once did.

I’ll admit, the curiosity about tasting menus got to me too. When I tried Trèsind and Mizu’s tasting menus, I left in a blissful food coma. The dishes were familiar yet fascinatingly new, and of course, I couldn’t resist sharing my joy on Instagram Stories. Would I do the same for every matcha latte I grab from a café? Well, not every one of them, but definitely some of them. Because every now and then, I like giving in to the shiny trap of the algorithm, just to see if it still has a hold on me.

Everyone wants in on pop culture

Instagram reminded me that Nobody Wants This Season 2 had dropped, and within a day, everyone had a hot take on it. Naturally, I had to watch it too. The same catalytic effect applies to concerts and festivals. Much to the dismay of our bank accounts, we rush to buy tickets even if we know only four songs of the performing artist. And when FOMO hits hard, say you missed a Coldplay concert, you can always “Get Your Flex.” Yes, that’s a real Instagram account. For a small fee, you can buy photos and videos to make it look like you were there, complete with legit accounts tagging you in their stories.

So when a restaurant or food trend becomes culturally significant, it triggers the same instinct. You don’t want to be left out of the conversation or the community. You queue for an hour for that benne dosa everyone’s raving about. You add mayo to your coffee because American football player Will Levis did. Or start making your chai in a pressure cooker because food creator Yaman Agarwal thinks it enhances the flavours. But it’s not just about tasting something new; it’s about documenting it. Post a picture or it didn’t happen, right?

There is strong compulsion, especially among young people, to not miss out on any pop culture moments. It’s important to them to keep up with what is trending and according to Shala Nicely, a cognitive behavioural therapist, it’s because they have a deep desire to be seen to be relevant. She points out that when humans were still evolving, being unseen by their tribe meant a danger to life and the risk of being left behind—and even though we’re no longer being chased by big cats, that ancient instinct remains. And so, through food, a common love among us all, we try to signal that we are relevant, culturally fluent members of the tribe.

But there just might be an upside to this constant documentation beyond the performance. One study says that taking pictures before eating actually increases enjoyment. The brief delay builds anticipation, a kind of modern, Instagram-approved delayed gratification that makes every bite taste just a little bit better (the research doesn’t say anything about the hangry person who inevitably accompanies such a person and has to wait while the elaborate photo shoot ensues).

Validation feels great

You may not get invited to the Galeries Lafayette launch in India, but you can still score a Saturday night reservation at Indian Accent or The Table. Posting about your meal sends a clear message: you have taste, and more importantly, you have money and access. And the compliments come pouring in, right after you post this. Some people are just fascinated, others want to know how much in advance should you ask for a reservation, and a few more wish to know what you ate. Suddenly, you feel like a torchbearer in this category, like a Michelin star inspector even. Your life may be falling apart, your Hinge date might have catfished you, and workdays may be giving you stress-induced acidity, but at least you had a social-media-validated meal over the weekend.

But what about those who post not just their special meals, but every meal? We all know that one friend whose weekend food itinerary is public knowledge to their 900 followers. Or the one who personally sends you photos of their fifth plate of sushi that month.

When I looked it up on Reddit, I realised people have been asking the same question—why do people take pictures of their food? —five years ago, and even five months ago. We haven’t changed much. Some on that Reddit thread suggested people do it to capture memories, some because they genuinely love food, and some to gently nudge their chicken-tender-loving friends to try something new. While most of us would like to think we’re doing a public service by letting others know of the new restaurants, their star dishes, or even a new recipe we came across, we know it’s not a purely selfless act. We do this for ourselves, for how good it makes us feel to be validated, appreciated, and of help.

Performance over pleasure?

Somewhere between the farm-to-table movement and 15-second food reels, eating turned into a kind of performance. We’re all not just diners, but also directors now, chasing flavour, sure, but also a sense of projection. Each time I watch a reel of someone trying out the new Napoli pizza around the corner, they’re taking long pauses and gasp between bites, convincing you that it is the best piece of bread with cheese you will ever put in your mouth. And if you don’t try it, too bad, you’re missing out.

But if you must go all out with flaunting your food, how do you do it in a way that feels authentic and not like you’ll gobble up every social media food trend to emerge? I think, the answer truly lies in what you’re trying to convey about yourself. If you want to look like someone with a buzzing social life, post your most fun meal, ideally after you’ve already dug in. If you want validation for choosing a salad over fries, turn it into a weekly challenge and share your progress, even when you’ve messed up. If your vibe is earthy and old-school, a perfectly plated ghar ka khana thali says it all. And if you want to seem effortlessly cool and authentic, nothing beats a montage of street food discoveries.

Me? Sometimes I’m all of these people. But more often, I’m the one eating cross-legged on my couch, enjoying food that tastes like home, with no one watching. That said, I do feel grateful for people who do discover new restaurants and don’t gate keep them. And for the many individual creators who introduced me to the many sauces and salads I wouldn’t have discovered otherwise.

Maybe that’s the thing about food. It connects us, grounds us, and occasionally flatters our ego. Whether it’s a chef’s tasting menu or a reheated bowl of leftovers, every meal tells a story about who we are and what we crave. Some of us eat for comfort and some for the camera. But when the plate is empty and the phone is face down, it’s the quiet satisfaction that lingers, not the likes.