The Rise of Pre-Made Meals in China: Convenience at the Cost of Flavor?

Photo by Richard R on Unsplash

As times change and information becomes increasingly fragmented, the simple act of cooking has become harder to accomplish. With the rise of the digital economy, access to food has never been more convenient. To meet growing and diverse demands, food companies have ramped up their technological capabilities, focusing on increasing production efficiency to balance supply and demand.

However, as businesses chase speed and scale, consumers are starting to notice something missing: the soul of the food. Take the popular Chinese fast-food chain Lao Xiang Ji (老乡鸡, a popular Chinese fast-food chain known for its Anhui-style chicken dishes) as an example. To cut down on labor and time, the brand adopted a centralized kitchen model, producing food in bulk, freezing it, and then shipping it to local outlets for reheating and serving. While this process boosts efficiency, it has drawn criticism from customers who say the food no longer feels fresh or memorable.

Since 2022, more and more elementary and kindergarten schools in China have partnered with catering companies that use similar models. Meals are made in central kitchens, shipped through cold-chain logistics, and reheated on-site at schools. In early 2023, just weeks into the spring semester, a parent in Hengyang, Hunan province, took to social media to report that her child’s school meals were entirely pre-made. She posted photos: scrambled eggs that looked like “spilled chicken oil paste,” greens that had turned yellow and black, and clumped rice with barely any meat. Her child later complained the food had “no taste” and suffered from diarrhea twice. The post quickly went viral, sparking widespread concern. Many other parents chimed in with similar complaints — some even said that teachers avoided the school lunches altogether, opting to bring their own meals. The incident trended online, with “students eating pre-made meals” becoming a national flashpoint.

Even high-end restaurant chains have not been immune to scrutiny. For instance, Hefu Noodle, a well-known noodle chain in Shanghai where the average meal costs around 150 CNY (22 USD equivalence), was found to serve food that was essentially reheated meal kits, with little to no actual cooking done on-site. Customers were understandably frustrated, feeling deceived by the high prices and low authenticity.

In cities like Shanghai, where diners are increasingly sophisticated, the backlash against pre-made food has fueled a wave of small and mid-sized restaurants proudly advertising “No Pre-Made Meals” on their storefronts. They promote a “home-style, cooked-to-order” image to attract customers seeking more authentic dining experiences. This isn’t just resistance — it’s a deliberate branding strategy in an increasingly divided food market.

During a recent trip to Beijing, I had a personal encounter with this issue. Without a reservation, I visited a Michelin one-star restaurant. The only available seating was at the “Lu Style”, which we accepted, hoping for an authentic Beijing dining experience — perhaps something classic like braised sea cucumber with scallions. But when the pork knuckle dish arrived, it tasted suspiciously like a frozen pre-made item. I left a fair but critical review on a Chinese restaurant app, Dianping. To my surprise, the restaurant took it seriously, removed the charge for the dish, and the manager personally came to speak with us. He even offered to add us on WeChat (China’s all-in-one super app that combines messaging, social media, mobile payments, and a wide range of everyday services into a single platform) and told us to contact him directly next time. It was clear that, in today’s fiercely competitive food industry, platforms like Dianping have become powerful tools for consumer feedback — and for restaurants, a matter of survival.

Before we left, the restaurant gifted us a few specialty snacks and avoided using the term “pre-made meals” during our conversation. It’s obvious that restaurants are highly aware of how low consumer tolerance has become for this type of food. Whether they admit to it or not, the stigma is real.

In the end, this experience left me thinking: in a world increasingly shaped by algorithms, logistics, and standardized efficiency, is it still possible to have meals that feel personal, warm, and memorable? For many of us, the answer lies not just in the taste, but in the care behind it.