Food branding without borders: chai, culture, and the politics of packaging

Few things can anchor me to home as instantly as a cup of chai. Growing up in India, I spent careful, almost ceremonial minutes getting the simmer of elaichi, adrak, and jaggery just right. And yet, because memory is an imprecise measure, chai never tasted the same twice in my home, an experience I’m sure is echoed in the millions of homes throughout the country with similar rituals.

Today, many companies — often Western, sometimes not — peddle “chai tea,” flattening the shape of a centuries-old South Asian tradition they do not understand into a marketing cliché. What once carried spice, memory, and meaning is rendered a cinnamon-sweetened trend, comfort stripped of context, texture, and joyful imperfection. Even the manufacturer-given name mocks chai’s origins, translating to “tea tea” for those unwilling to learn its language.

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As chai and other culinary exports gain traction in Western markets, their branding often ends up reducing rich histories to palatable, mass-market visuals. A tension emerges between being seen as “worldly” and “authentic” because, in practice, “worldly” often means conforming to the dominant taste. Design choices don’t just reflect culture; they shape how it’s perceived, consumed, and remembered — and they do it on a massive scale. 

Some 280 million people live outside their country of origin, shaping and reshaping cultures across borders. As identities collide and evolve, designers must ask: What distinguishes meaningful representation from culture dressed for export? And who has the authority to design cultural hybridity?

An emerging generation of designers is stepping up to make sense of these provocations, challenge derivative representations, and foster genuine cultural exchange — not extraction — across diasporas.

The trailblazers of diasporic design

Today’s wave of culturally savvy designers knows that meaningful brand identity is grounded in collaboration with insiders. The power to define narratives belongs to those with lived experience: the chefs, designers, and storytellers who understand the nuance, rituals, and contradictions of their cultures. Where perspectives meet, branding can shift from tokenism to genuine exchange that reflects the complexity of how we live now.

When brands, taking cues from these pathfinders, integrate diverse spatial references into their design — through logos, packaging, or visual systems — they help build a design language that reflects transnational identity rather than co-opting it.

Super Spicy Studio’s identity for Kolkata Chai Company, for example, blends traditional and South Asian visual references with modern branding. It doesn’t dilute; it recontextualizes, creating space where heritage feels current instead of curated. To achieve this organic visual language, the brand avoids clichéd iconography — no ornate mandalas or mustache-twirling chaiwala mascots — and instead draws on the founders’ memories of Kolkata, the capital of India’s West Bengal state (formerly Calcutta). It evokes the chaotic charm of bustling city streets through nostalgic hues and a patchwork of typefaces, all framed within a fresh, contemporary context. The modernity comes through in the refined layout, bold color blocking and confident typographic hierarchy, design choices that reference present-day aesthetics without resorting to trend-chasing or slipping into caricature. This kind of design reflects the layered realities of diasporic identity.

DutchScot’s identity for Sucre, a London-based restaurant steeped in the Latin American heritage of founding chef Fernando Trocca, feels at once grounded and expansive. Instead of relying on generic motifs like folkloric dancers or bright carnival colors often used to signal Latin exuberance without context, the design draws from Trocca’s transnational journey, blending Argentine and European influences into a cohesive visual language. The logo merges old-world charm with Buenos Aires soul; letterforms take inspiration from vintage signage and hand-painted storefronts, while graphic lines crib from tango steps and diasporic movement. The visual system plays with deliberate contrast, pairing modern, hand-drawn illustrations with rich color palettes evoking Andean textile traditions that echo across centuries of pre-Columbian history. By embracing and carrying the story of diaspora without ever resorting to pastiche, Sucre creates a sense of global belonging rooted in place but not confined by it.

Studio Bigfat’s branding for Goenchi Feni embraces the complexity of memory, colonial residue, and regional pride. First created in Goa, India, feni is a liquor made from coconuts or cashews. The Goenchi branding uplifts the spirit’s layered origin story, depicting how distilling traditions survived monarchies, colonialism, and modern pressures to strip away cultural specificity in favor of globally palatable alcohol branding — minimalist serif logos, neutral palettes, abstract icons, and heritage reduced to a line of copy. The packaging wears this Goan identity proudly: the label is alive with meticulously hand-drawn imagery featuring the Rendiers and Cazcars — local coconut and cashew distillers — and the iconic Garrafão jug, a Portuguese import turned Goan household staple. Embracing raw specificity through illustration, texture, and typographic flourish, Goenchi refuses to sanitize Goa’s story by honoring these narratives and artifacts almost like an archive. The design isn’t a packaged souvenir for global palates but a genuine celebration of the histories, peoples, and practices behind the spirit.

Nuanced representation in branding isn’t just about featuring diverse faces or flavors; it’s about shifting who holds narrative power. It requires working with cultural insiders, embracing complexity, and resisting the urge to smooth over context for mass appeal. I’ve had chai on Delhi sidewalks and in New York City apartments. The recipe is never exactly the same, and that’s the point. Cultural identity, like design, isn’t fixed; it adapts, improvises, and holds memory and change, all in the same sip. The goal, then, is to leave room for this plurality without flattening flavor, cultural or otherwise.