Are We Losing Personal Taste While Chasing Social Media's Micro-Trends?

Sipping my iced matcha latte in an overpriced cafe last week, I had an epiphany. I was on the verge of losing my personal taste. The girl who could name countless dishes and drinks she loved in the blink of an eye was struggling to go beyond the learned language of micro trends. 

So, I cleansed my feed, my palate, and got to thinking. The digital age has transformed food from a private pleasure into a public performance. Scrolling through Instagram, you can track dozens of fleeting obsessions: one pan feta cheese pasta and matcha one day, to Dubai chocolate the next. While these viral creations can spark creativity, they also raise an uncomfortable question: Are we letting microtrends dictate our palates and sidelining our own culinary instincts? Here is why I think micro-trends are reshaping (and sometimes eroding) our personal taste.

The Algorithm’s Palate Is Not Your Palate

Social media rewards novelty and spectacle, think Dubai's viral kunafa chocolate, mango dessert that looks exactly like a mango, or strange fusion recipes that look pleasing but no one beyond the creator knows how they would actually taste. Recipes designed to “stop the scroll” don’t always translate into dishes worth cooking again. The first time I followed a viral recipe, it was during the Covid times. The One Pan Feta Cheese Pasta was trending everywhere, and I followed the recipe to a T. What I got was a dish suited to the American palate, with side eyes from my family. In chasing engagement, we risk forgetting that taste is subjective, nuanced, and shaped by culture and memory. Personal favourites like your grandmother’s thechwani or a humble Garhwali aloo ka swala with loads of ghee rarely go viral, but they carry meaning that likes can’t quantify.

The Fast-Fashion Effect On Food

Just as fashion cycles have accelerated, food trends now burn bright and vanish quickly. Sourdough starters were cherished in 2020; by 2025, they were abandoned for hundreds of different kinds of matcha desserts, which even led to a shortage of matcha in Japan.

This constant churn encourages a disposable attitude: ingredients are purchased for a single experiment and then discarded, leaving little room for mastering a dish or forming a long-term connection with a recipe. And to iterate just how wasteful the process is would also be a waste of time. I have Thai curry paste lying somewhere in the back of my fridge just because, at some point in time, I was mildly obsessed with green Thai curry. The pace makes it harder to develop a distinctive cooking style rooted in repetition and refinement.

Heritage Recipes Are Being Sidelined

Micro-trends can overshadow culinary heritage. Family recipes that took generations to perfect can feel “dated” next to the latest viral hack. A Goan vindaloo or a Bengali shorshe ilish may not have the visual gimmickry to trend, yet these dishes are touchstones of identity and memory. By privileging what photographs well, we risk losing techniques, spice balances, and stories that don’t fit neatly into a 30-second video. Preserving these dishes takes intention, and sometimes resisting the lure of novelty.

FOMO Is Replacing Genuine Curiosity

The fear of missing out has crept into our kitchens. Rather than cooking what truly excites us, we rush to replicate the latest craze so we can join the conversation. But cooking should be an act of exploration and pleasure, not pressure. Tuning out the noise, even briefly, can help you rediscover your own cravings. Maybe that means revisiting a classic bitter gourd recipe your mother has perfected over the years or experimenting with your region’s forgotten grains instead of whatever’s trending on Instagram.

Slow, Intentional Cooking Is The Quiet Rebellion

Reclaiming personal taste doesn’t mean rejecting trends entirely; it means engaging with them on your terms. Try a viral recipe like a baked feta pasta if it intrigues you, but give equal time to the dishes that shaped your food memories. Spend a weekend mastering a traditional pickle or fermenting dosa batter until it tastes just right. By cooking intentionally, you create a repertoire that reflects your identity rather than the internet’s whims. In an age of constant novelty, sticking with what you truly love can be the most radical choice of all.

Micro-trends can be fun and inspiring, but they’re only one small part of the culinary landscape. Personal taste is built slowly, through trial, error, and the dishes that comfort and delight you again and again. By resisting the pressure to chase every viral moment, we can preserve the recipes, flavours, and memories that make our cooking uniquely our own.