Virality: Are we in the business of feeding people or feeding feeds?
- Flo Graham-Dixon
- Sep 19
- 4 min read
In the picturesque city of Salzburg, Austria – birthplace of Mozart and backdrop to The Sound of Music – every corner looks like a film set. Cobblestone streets are dotted with year-round Christmas shops, family-run pretzel stalls, and boutiques unironically selling dirndls and lederhosen. It's a place that, miraculously, has resisted the tide of global homogenisation.
And yet, there it was.
On a quiet afternoon stroll through the old town, my eye caught something in the window of a multi-generational chocolatier – one of those proudly traditional establishments that looks like it hasn't changed a thing since the fifties. Amid the brightly foiled chocolates and glossy truffles, sat a sign in hand-scripted gold foil: "Dubai Chocolate – Limited Batch."
This jarring, anachronistic sign was a reminder of how intensely viral these trends have become, making their way into the heart of a centuries-old Austrian chocolate shop – this far from Dubai or Instagram/TikTok fame. It got me asking what that says about our culture, our tastes, and our attention spans, and what it means for our industry?
We've all seen it: Onda's tiramisu in a fridge drawer, Philippe Conticini's croissant the size of your forearm, Parker's chocolate Matilda cake... these trends are inescapable. As an industry, we need to pause and ask: what are we really feeding here?
Virality can be powerful, no doubt about it. A single, well-timed creation/post can catapult a business to fame and secure a steady stream of customers for years to come. For some, it is a happy accident; for others, it's a calculated move. Restaurants, cafés, and even heritage brands are designing dishes not just for flavour, but for engagement – to game the algorithm, spark a scroll-stopping moment, or inspire a thousand TikTok memes. The goal? Visibility in a saturated market, which can lead to trade-offs, such as style over culinary substance. Towering croissants, gooey lava cakes, and "broken" cheesecakes are built to be seen first, eaten second. This isn't to dismiss the creativity behind them, but it does signal a shift. We're not just feeding people anymore, we're feeding feeds.
So what's actually going viral – and why? When you look closely, most viral hits fall into a few repeatable categories:
Mash-Ups: Dubai chocolate with pistachio Knafeh, crookies (cookie + croissant), Cinnabon-doughnuts, doughnut bread and butter pudding, and tiramisu lattes. Hybrids play on comfort and novelty at the same time.
ASMR & Sensory Triggers: Slow-motion pours, gooey melts, crunchy toppings tickle our senses and offer a dopamine hit.
Shock & Absurdity: Oversized portions, surreal presentations, "accidentally" sexual food preparation, or intentionally "gross" combinations like pickle ice cream leverage the power of shock and spectacle.
User-Generated Hype & Participation: Making the customer part of the story with items served interactively at the table that elicit a response or that can be recreated at home.
And of course, there's the algorithm itself, which thrives on engagement velocity - likes, shares, comments, saves – with savvy marketeers queuing up reactions from trusted collaborators. The faster people interact, the more the platforms reward content. It's not just the idea that needs to hit; it's the timing, the influencers, the reactions, the snowball effect. If you're designing for virality, these are your tools. But chasing clicks comes with risks.
There's a fine line between seeking maximum engagement and becoming a copycat, fad, or even worse, neglecting your core business and customers. If we let it define our output, we risk hollowing out what makes our industry matter – connection, care, craft. And for every hit, there's a graveyard of misses: try-hard, derivative, tone-deaf, or missed-moment flops that can damage a brand's credibility. Virality without authenticity is just unwelcome noise.
Traditionally, I'm a fan of the good old British establishment – restaurants built on timeless hospitality and doing the classics well. That said, I can't help but admire the commercial success of some of these viral hits, and the sheer, child-like joy of putting unexpected things together and making it work. Not all trends are superficial – some highlight brilliant artisanal products that have been around for decades, lovingly kept alive by producers long before TikTok showed up (Boulangerie Paris & Co's multi-coloured arrays of Bar à Flans). And then there are the light-hearted, laugh-out-loud ones – tiramisu drawers in bedside tables, suitcases, and car storage compartments.
My recommendation is to pick a lane and own it. If you're going to play the attention game, play it well. Invest in creating dishes, experiences, and stories that people want to talk about, and make sure they deliver on more than just appearance and are relevant to your brand and customer. One of my favourite examples is Fallow: behind-the-scenes glimpses, day-in-the-life reels, recipe shares – not too polished, just authentic, relatable, and rooted in what makes their restaurant work. Their viral Croissant Royale fits with their brand – playful, indulgent, and cheffy, but not gimmicky.
But the counterpoint is just as valid – maybe even more powerful in a saturated market. There's something quietly radical about rejecting the game altogether. Building a brand around craft, intimacy, and human connection. No phones. No photos. No frills. Just exceptional food, remembered by those who tasted it. These are the places critics and industry peers often revere. So if you can back it up with quality, confidence, and consistency, the word should still spread, just more slowly and, often, sustainably.
Both strategies are viable. But the worst place to be is caught in the middle, with teams chasing their tails trying to come up with the next viral gimmick or jumping on every bandwagon, instead of focusing on the basics. So ask yourself – do you want to design for the feed... or for the return visit?
