Ethos. A restaurant famous across Instagram. With 85.7 K in followers, that’s much more than many Michelin star restaurants even have. Who can blame the people? With Pikachu shaped ravioli, Gordon Ramsay’s head carved out of a pumpkin, sushi offered in spa pools and much more… These crazy inventions sound unreal—and for good reason: they are.
All of the images posted regularly on the Instagram of Ethos are AI generated. While some look pretty genuine, such as a hotdog with thanksgiving ingredients, others like a meter-long chicken tender are a little less believable. Upon closer inspection, however, all the images have some of the tell-tale signs of AI image-generation, such as a lack of focus anywhere in the photo (some parts of the photo are less focused than others giving it the illusion of a central focus point). For those who struggle to identify AI generated images, then all it takes is one look at AI’s Achilles heel: human faces.
Despite these clues, a lot of people don’t seem to realize that the images are AI-generated and more worryingly, that the restaurant is fake. There are plenty of comments from individuals complaining about the impossibility of obtaining a booking and looking for guidance as to how it can be achieved.
To be fair to these people, Ethos is quite an elaborate ruse: there’s a sophisticated looking website with details of each member of staff, an enquiry form, claims they have won various culinary prizes etc. The explanation that individuals need to wait for reservations to come out on the 4th of each month at 4.30am seems to suggest the pranksters want to keep people hooked until the very end. The final revelation comes only when you seek to check the availability and are redirected to a website with a gif of a man being ‘slapped’ by an Eel.
The whole experience is rather odd, and stranger still there are many people who play along with this ‘bit’. In the comments there are individuals who talk about how wonderful they found their food, or joke around that their ‘Maître D’ was “trying to get us to chop the meringue up and snort a line”.
I wondered if the people buying into the prank and going along with it felt it was like some sort of interactive story experience. The Ethos Instagram page is not just about food, there are also ‘updates’ about fictitious staff members like Jason Mimosa or two workers who supposedly fell in love working at the restaurant. Could it be that people see this as a book-like experience, with each new post a tiny story snippet of the series that is ‘Ethos’?
Is this how it was originally intended? Or, is this simply what people have taken from it? Speculations about the purpose behind this ‘fake restaurant’ include: that it could be someone’s marketing portfolio, that it may be someone with an IT background experimenting with AI, that it may be someone trying to play a prank on those who seek high-end restaurant culture.
One of the most significant elements of Ethos is that it’s an exclusive restaurant, quite literally impossible to book. As humans we are driven towards what is rare and exclusive. We often value limited resources because they are limited, just think of jewelry. Nowhere is this better portrayed than in the many exclusive restaurant pranks carried out over the last couple of years. Could this be an extension of these jokes? The catchphrase of Ethos: “home of unreal flavours” seems to suggest so.
Over the last few years there have been several incidents of individuals trying to show just how much we buy into the image of something rather than its actual content. The Shed at Dulwich was Oobah Butler’s attempt at demonstrating how easy it is to buy into misinformation. Butler was able to make ‘The Shed’ Trip Advisor’s no. 1 restaurant in London through a series of fake reviews, photoshopped images, ridiculous stunt foods and a strong air of exclusivity. A similar experiment was undertaken by Stanley Chen with an equally high-end fake ramen restaurant.
Both experiments involved building up an online presence for their fake restaurants which portrayed their restaurants as sophisticated, unique and highly selective. Eventually they both invited a select number of customers and fed them very average food (pot noodles and microwave meals) in a curated environment with ambience. Chen said “we set up a projector to play scenes of nature. We served all of our instant ramen in plant pots and even hired a DJ to play nature noises and called the experience 'Ramen Forest’.”
Amazingly, people raved about the food. Individuals claimed they would pay $40-50 for what was instant noodles and acted as if the food served was up to the standard created by the online imagery. Generally, people’s reviews seemed like something straight out of one of the classic psychological experiments on social influence and conformity.
Fine dining is defined as “more than just a meal – it’s a sensorial part of the travel experience”. Elements integral to the experience are said to include “culinary excellence, superior service, and luxurious ambiance”. Does the food no longer matter as much as the imagery? I realize that humans are social creatures designed to crave societies approval, but has it reached the point where we would rather trust social media over our own senses? Whether they are pranks or not, these experiments all demonstrate our willingness to trust what is on the internet.
Whether it’s the quality of food in your plate, or the feasibility of frying a 1-m large chicken tender, perhaps we should start trusting our senses more and be a bit more doubtful about what we hear online.
Written by Celene Sandiford, smartR AI