What an edible insects stall revealed about acceptance, ‘normal’ food

Why does the idea of eating insects provoke discomfort, even before taste or nutrition enters the conversation? At an edible insects stall during a food mela at the Science Gallery, Bengaluru, this question surfaced repeatedly as visitors negotiated curiosity, disgust and the boundaries of what they considered “normal” food.

Many assumed they were encountering a foreign idea. “This is eaten in other countries, right?” was a common question at the stall, curated under the exhibition theme ‘Calorie’. Few realised that eating insects has long been part of food cultures within India itself.

Entomophagy, the practice of eating insects, is often imagined as something that happens elsewhere, outside India. Yet insects have been consumed across several Indian States for generations. This is particularly visible in parts of Northeast India, such as Nagaland and Arunachal Pradesh, where insects are eaten seasonally and sold in markets like Dimapur’s Mava Market.

At the stall, visitors were offered cricket cookies, chilli garlic crickets, and fried silkworms. Curiosity often preceded commitment: nearly 60% of those who tasted the insects were trying for the first time. For many, the experience was marked by uncertainty followed by surprise. “It was my first time eating insects, so I didn’t know what to expect,” said a student who tried the fried silkworms. “But it turned out to be a good experience.”

Taste, more than curiosity, seemed to shift perception. One visitor described the silkworm as tasting “like overcooked kidney beans”, while another, who tried both chilli garlic crickets and silkworms, noted the contrast clearly: “The cricket had more flavour. The silkworm had a more eggy texture.”

Beyond perception, insects are often framed as an efficient source of calories and protein in a world facing growing food demands. As populations increase and food systems strain under climate and resource pressures, edible insects are frequently cited as a sustainable alternative protein source.

Many insect species are rich in protein, vitamins and micronutrients, with a much higher proportion of their body mass being edible, around 80%, compared to about 55% for poultry. They also require significantly less land, water and feed to produce the same amount of protein. For instance, crickets need far fewer resources than conventional livestock such as sheep or broiler chickens, making them an efficient source of protein from a production standpoint.

Yet despite these nutritional and environmental benefits and despite insects being part of many food cultures. People are increasingly moving away from them. Urbanisation has created both physical and cultural distance from such practices. Many younger generations who have grown up or settled in cities are often unaware that insects are eaten across several parts of India, sometimes even within their own home States.

During conversations at the stall, insect-eating was frequently framed as something “indigenous” acknowledged but distanced. It was seen as belonging to rural communities rather than to urban food cultures. In this framing, eating insects became less about nutrition and more about class: it did not fit into dominant ideas of modern, aspirational food.

Ironically, in the regions where these practices continue, insect-based foods are neither novel nor marginal. They are seasonal, familiar, and often tied to specific occasions and generations. Yet from an urban lens, these foods are frequently dismissed as backward, revealing how ideas of progress shape what is considered acceptable to eat.

Some visitors recognised this disconnect. “People should start overlooking the typical stereotypes and experiment more,” said a working professional, reflecting on how discomfort often precedes experience. Others framed the hesitation against sustainability concerns. “It’s a sustainable protein source that is cost-effective to produce and with low environmental impact,” noted another visitor, pointing to the gap between environmental awareness and everyday food choices.

Even among visitors who were open to the idea, acceptance was often accompanied by hesitation. Questions emerged not just about taste or sustainability, but about sufficiency and substitution. “I’m wondering how filling this would be as a complete meal,” one visitor said. “I don’t know if it can really replace the food groups we have now.”

Others echoed this caution. “I don’t see it becoming a staple food,” a student visitor noted, while still describing the stall as “a good initiative for public health.” Alongside this, some visitors raised ethical questions about knowledge and credit. “If this practice is being promoted,” one remarked, “it’s important to acknowledge the communities and regions it comes from.”

The stall did not resolve these questions; it was not meant to. Instead, it made visible the assumptions, hesitations and hierarchies that shape what we call food. It raised quieter, more uncomfortable questions: why some foods are embraced while others are dismissed, why sustainability is easier to discuss than to practise, and why foods familiar to many communities still feel unfamiliar in urban spaces.

From my perspective, making insect-based foods more acceptable is as much about form and familiarity as it is about nutrition. At the stall, insects were intentionally offered in different formats, both ground into cookies and served whole, flavoured with garlic and chilli. Presenting insects in processed forms appeared to lower psychological barriers, allowing visitors to engage with taste and texture without the immediate discomfort often associated with whole insects. Public-facing experiments like food stalls can play an important role in this process by creating low-pressure spaces where curiosity can precede judgement.

As Priyadarsanan Dharma Rajan, who works on edible insects, noted, his lab, the Insect Biosystematics and Conservation (IBC) Laboratory at ATREE, is increasingly focusing on developing sustainable ways of rearing insects. Establishing standardised rearing protocols allows insects to be produced at scale rather than harvested from the wild, reducing pressure on natural populations while ensuring consistency, safety and nutritional quality. In this sense, changing how insects are produced may be as important as changing how they are perceived.

Sahanashree R. is Project Associate, IBCL Lab, Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE), Bengaluru.