A simple comment on a video of an automated soft serve machine in Japan sparked a deeper reflection on one of experience design’s most fundamental challenges: the tension between spectacle and utility.
The machine itself was charming—complete with animated characters on screen appearing to prepare your ice cream with theatrical flourish. But as one viewer observed:
1st time: Awwww so cute
2nd time: Just gimme the damn ice cream
This observation cuts to the heart of what I call the Ice Cream Paradox: the delicate balance between creating memorable experiences and respecting the practical needs of repeat users.
The Spectrum of Performative Consumption
This got me thinking about the broader landscape of performative experiences involving what we consume, a subject I’ve been fascinated with since taking Stefani Bardin’s “Culinary Physics” course at NYU’s Interactive Telecommunications Program. The class explored the intersection of molecular gastronomy, technology, and design—examining how the act of eating and drinking could become a canvas for storytelling and interaction.
Through that lens, I began to see consumption as existing on a spectrum of performance intensity:
At one extreme, you have performance that undermines practicality. Salt Bae’s dramatic seasoning technique became a global meme not because his entire process was theater—he’s legitimately skilled at cutting meat—but because his signature salt sprinkle prioritized spectacle over function. Released from such a height with so little control over placement, and applied so thinly it adds minimal flavor, the salt becomes pure choreography designed for Instagram rather than seasoning designed for taste.
In the middle, you find experiences like Le Petit Chef—the projection mapping dinner experience that transforms your table into a stage where a tiny animated chef prepares your meal before your eyes. Here, the performance enhances the dining experience without fundamentally disrupting it. The show happens while you wait, turning downtime into entertainment.
At the theatrical extreme, consumables become one element in a larger immersive narrative. In Brooklyn’s acclaimed “Then She Fell”—an intimate, interactive theater experience based on Lewis Carroll’s life and work—audience members are offered custom-designed elixirs crafted from wines, teas, herbs and infusions as they journey through a dreamlike reimagining of Carroll’s world. Inspired directly by the “Drink Me” potion from Alice in Wonderland, these elixirs aren’t refreshments; they’re narrative devices that transport you deeper into the story, sensory anchors that blur the line between observer and participant in Carroll’s fevered imagination.
The Repeatability Question
Each of these approaches succeeds because they understand their relationship with repetition and functionality:
- Salt Bae works because it’s meant to be a one-time spectacle, a bucket list experience where you’re paying for the show more than optimal seasoning
- Le Petit Chef succeeds because the performance fills what would otherwise be dead time
- Then She Fell integrates elixirs so seamlessly into the narrative that they feel essential rather than performative—each sip becomes a conscious choice to go deeper down the rabbit hole
But what about that Japanese soft serve machine? It falls into a problematic middle ground—adding performance to a transaction that people want to repeat regularly and efficiently.
Lessons for Experience Design
This ice cream paradox extends far beyond food service into every corner of experience design. Whether you’re creating museum installations, designing smart home interfaces, or building immersive brand experiences, the fundamental question remains: how will this feel on the 100th use?
For first-time experiences (museums, theme parks, special events), lean into wonder. People expect and want the full show.
For daily-use products (apps, appliances, work tools), prioritize efficiency. Performance elements should enhance, not impede, the core function.
For occasional-use experiences (restaurants, retail, services), find the sweet spot. Performance can add value if it respects the user’s time and context.
The Robot’s Elegant Solution
Interestingly, the most elegant solution in my original video compilation might be the robot arm gracefully twirling ice cream cones. It performs a necessary function—creating that perfect soft serve swirl—while doing so with mechanical ballet-like precision. The performance emerges from mastery of the task itself, not from added theatrical elements.
This suggests a fourth approach: performance through perfection. When the act of doing something well becomes inherently beautiful to watch, you’ve achieved that rare balance where spectacle and utility enhance each other.
Designing for the Full Journey
As experience designers, we’re often seduced by the magic of first impressions. We craft moments that stop people in their tracks, that generate social media buzz, that win awards. But sustainable design requires us to think beyond that initial “wow” to the entire relationship a user will have with our creation.
The Japanese soft serve machine teaches us that good intentions—making a mundane transaction more delightful—can backfire if we don’t consider the context of repeated use. Sometimes the most thoughtful design choice is knowing when to step out of the way and let people get their ice cream.
After all, the best experiences don’t just amaze us once—they continue to serve us long after the novelty wears off. That’s the real magic trick worth performing.