Most people think my job is just tasting things and saying, “Needs more salt.” And while that’s… not entirely untrue, the reality of working in seasoning development is a lot messier, more intuitive, and way more emotional than people expect.
Sure, I’m surrounded by spices. I spend my days collaborating with food developers, decoding flavor briefs, refining concepts, and guiding projects that need to taste like a feeling. But the real work? It’s part culinary science, part therapy session, and part storytelling, and no one hands you a manual for it.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), I was thrown into this world with nothing but a “you’re smart, go figure it out.” Cool advice when I’m exploring the mind-bending worlds of Meow Wolf, but not as cool when it’s my profession — and my livelihood — on the line. Suffice it to say, I had to learn fast and get it right.
The journey is ongoing and always evolving. My beginning was full of discovery. The middle? A flood of epiphanies. And the ending? It’s TBD… but I’m hoping it involves a fancy boat, floating somewhere in the Mediterranean, eating fresh fish, and drinking naturally fermented wine.
(Sorry, I got carried away for a second.)
Here’s what they don’t tell you when you decide to devote your life to flavor:
1. You’re Basically a Food Therapist
People don’t just come to me asking for “garlic herb.” They come asking for what Gen Z calls a vibe.
“Can you make this taste like the beach, but cozy?”
“Something bold and disruptive… but still familiar.”
“Think: truffle fries… but make it sexy.”
“Our customers are suburban moms who will spend between $80-$100 per order of our products; they expect to indulge as if they live in a city.”
This is how the meetings go.
My job is to translate half-formed emotions and marketing buzzwords into flavor direction. To read between the lines, decode the mood, and figure out what paprika, acid, fat, or funk will make something feel the way they want it to taste.
2. Flavor Memory Is Real — and It’s Deeply Personal
No one tastes in a vacuum. Flavor is tied to memory, culture, and identity. That cinnamon you associate with snickerdoodles, or maybe it was a pumpkin-spiced latte? Someone else grew up with it in lamb stew, and others had it as a top note in their mother’s dal. The ranch seasoning that feels quintessentially “American”? It’s garlic, onion, and acid — all found in countless cuisines across the world.
When you’re shaping a flavor concept, you have to understand that what feels comforting to one person might feel totally foreign to another. Working closely with our product developers, I’ve come to appreciate how important it is to honor those associations — or challenge them in just the right way.
3. Salt, Acid, Fat, Crunch… and Shelf Stability
Flavor doesn’t exist in a perfect vacuum, and neither do seasonings. They have to perform. Not just when they’re fresh but when they’ve been processed, frozen, fried, or cooked under high heat. They have to bloom properly, cling right, survive packaging, hang out on a shelf for a while, and still taste incredible.
I’m not the one in the lab, scaling or stress-testing, but I work closely with the people who are. And what do they do? It’s technical, deliberate, and honestly, totally underappreciated.
While I’ll never stop being a frustrated flavor chemist at heart, I know there’s a whole team behind me; educating, experimenting, and creating every step of the way. And when we let ourselves get inspired by new innovations, wild ingredients, or unexpected colors, we give our minds permission to wander. That’s how something different, something brand new, is born.
4. Some of the Best Blends Start with Chaos
Not everything starts with a clean brief. Some of my favorite creations? A random note on my phone, a weird craving I couldn’t shake, or a forgotten ingredient on my desk. According to my AI-generated Spice Girl Barbie, Cosmic Curry Dust could’ve been born this way — and honestly, she might be right.
Sometimes, it starts with tech, experimenting with new AI tools that generate wild flavor combos I wouldn’t have thought of in the shower. Other times, a customer sends me a spice they found at a street market in Mexico or a candy from Japan and says, “Can we do something with this?” Or I’ll be deep in a completely unrelated project, and someone casually drops, “Wouldn’t mango and coffee be insane together?” And I think… Yes. Yes, it would.
Take our Mango Java Meat Rub, which wasn’t born from a neat, orderly meeting. That came from a late afternoon flavor spiral where I wanted something tropical, a little smoky, and just unexpected enough to make someone pause before devouring it.
Or our Horchata Popcorn Seasoning. It wasn’t “developed” in the traditional sense. It came from a random snack I was eating while thinking about dessert for breakfast (don’t judge) and wondering, what if popcorn tasted like my favorite Latin American beverage?
Or was it an offhand comment during a meeting that spiraled into a “what if…?” moment?
Inspiration doesn’t follow rules. And honestly, I wouldn’t want it to.
You follow the spark. Build the concept. Play until it sticks. That’s where the magic is. Feel free to hang out there and mold it like cerulean-blue Play-Doh that just happens to match the Mediterranean Sea.
5. If We’re Doing It Right, You Don’t Even Notice
The best blends don’t scream, “Hey! Look at me!” They support the dish. They round out the sharp edges, bring the highs and lows into harmony, and make the whole experience feel complete. They make flavors linger a little longer, textures feel fuller, the finish more satisfying, and most of the time, the person eating it doesn’t even know why they love it so much. They just do.
Because great seasoning isn’t about being the loudest thing on the plate, it’s about being essential without being obvious. It’s the bassline in your favorite song; you don’t always hear it, but take it away, and the whole thing falls flat.
Think about the perfect bite of fried chicken: crispy, juicy, a touch of heat, that savory depth you can’t quite place. That’s the blend at work, playing backup while the chicken shines. Or the way a chip tastes addictive like you need another one — it’s not because of one spice, but the way they all come together to hit every corner of your palate.
I’ve seen it happen with our blends. Someone will say, “This is amazing, but I can’t put my finger on why.” And honestly? That’s the best compliment I can get. Because it means the seasoning did exactly what it was supposed to. It wasn’t about standing out; it was about making everything else better.
That’s the power of a well-designed blend.
It whispers, not shouts.
But when it’s gone? You notice. Trust me.
So Why Do It?
Because flavor is universal.
Because food connects us as human beings.
And because nothing thrills me more than watching someone take a bite and have that look — the one that says, “Hold up… what is this?!”
That’s when I knew the concept worked.
That’s when I knew the story landed.
That’s when I know we did our job.
