Ghost Kitchens, Isolation, and the dying Third Place
Early this May, I had finally concluded all of my coursework for the semester, and was itching to get outside and enjoy a sunny day. My partner and I meticulously planned a day trip involving a restaurant visit and a relaxing evening stroll around the same area of the city. As a car-free individual living in the bustling Atlanta metropolitan area, my day trips have been typically limited to wherever the MARTA can take me.
When I arrived at my train stop, the journey to the restaurant had not yet concluded. My eyes were immediately drawn to the expanse that was a five lane road, with nary a sidewalk in sight. I had to walk half a mile along this?! I had been coddled into ignorance by Midtown Atlanta’s walkable infrastructure. I tiptoed along a patch of grass, fearing for my life, beside the monstrosity till I arrived at my destination.
While the journey was unfavorable (other than the scenic MARTA ride), the restaurant itself could not have been that bad…right? My mind would never be able to conceive what met my eyes once I set foot through the door. Immediately facing me was a hallway with rows and rows of cubbies not too dissimilar from what you would find in an Amazon Hub Locker. The interior was literally just two small perpendicular hallways. In the hall to the left of the door, two benches faced a tablet affixed to the wall labeled “check in“, and a kiosk off to the corner labeled “place order“. A television overhead replayed generic instructions on how to place an order.
The space was cold and unwelcoming; paired with the corporate graphics that embellished the walls, it felt sterile, much like a hospital waiting room. This environment had a really poorly thought out information hierarchy, and customers within this space seemed just as confused as I. It appeared to be a transitional space and not an actual restaurant. I quickly concluded that it was a hub optimized for delivery and take-out services. After much deliberation, I caved in and attempted to place an order as it became too late in the afternoon to up and find another place to eat.
This unnerving experience led me down a rabbit hole of questions. What exactly was that place? I was reminded of an article I read a while back about the rising popularity of the ‘ghost kitchen’, which is a take-out and delivery-only food service which may or may not amalgamate several restaurants into one. Many such kitchens sprung up as a response to the influx in demand for delivery orders during the COVID-19 pandemic, as many sit-down restaurants were forced to shut down. However, post pandemic, their popularity waned, as many customers (myself included) felt catfished after arriving at the locations.
My experience with the ghost kitchen is emblematic of a rise in demand for convenience at the cost of impersonality and isolation. It was poised as the next big thing during the pandemic, and though it is becoming an increasingly unpopular choice, the philosophy of convenience still reigns strong. To draw a parallel, the longstanding fast-food drive through restaurant has many of the same qualities of a ghost kitchen. As these restaurants promote themselves as a quick bite, typical customers will eat their food alone in their more immediate spaces, and popularly in their car. These sorts of designs impede on the development of pedestrian friendly infrastructure and to a lesser extent create a positive feedback loop that promotes more cars to be on the road.
Moreover, what intrigues me is that people desire food from real, sit-down restaurants, but many will still order takeout to eat it at home. This behavior is a bit perplexing because it is merely the perception of the space existing which brings them a sense of comfort. Either way people will eat at home (myself included). I personally enjoyed the food which I ordered from the ghost kitchen that I visited. However, I agree that the concept is indescribably off-putting, and it may stem from the emergent desire in this generation for human interaction, or rather the perception of a potential for human interaction.
After marinating in this experience for quite some time, my mind has begun to draw links between many seemingly disconnected realities. Until very recently, I have tended to stay within my immediate spaces (school, home, library, and grocery store) throughout my college life. I am certain many young Americans can relate to experiencing a difficulty going beyond these types of spaces. We crave human interaction but struggle to access it due to the rise of car centric infrastructure. We are even more detached from close relatives and dear friends, and I myself can relate. My family and my best friend live in unreachable parts of Georgia as the MARTA does not extend that far.
