In an age of endless on-demand digital consumption, two young Indian software developers have built a viral online experiment that cuts to the core of modern consumer psychology: a fake food delivery platform that never actually sends a single meal to your door.
Created by 26-year-olds Purvansh Parmar and Anshul Sharma from Udaipur, Rajasthan, FoodNeverComes brands itself as the world’s first ‘dopamine kitchen’, and has already drawn more than 2.7 million unique visitors since launching in June. The platform mimics the full experience of ordering takeout: users browse 22 simulated local kitchens, scroll through 327 photo-ready dishes spanning everything from butter chicken to bibimbap, add selections to their digital cart, watch the order total rise, and complete a fully functional simulated checkout. They even get a live delivery tracker showing a rider en route, followed by an AI-generated phone call claiming the driver can’t find their address. But the entire exchange is staged — no food is ever cooked, packed, or dispatched. The site’s blunt slogan sums up its premise: ‘The food never comes — but the dopamine does.’
FoodNeverComes is far from a one-off gimmick. It is part of a fast-growing new category of online platforms dubbed ‘dopamine sites’: digital spaces that replicate the full ritual of consumer activity without any actual purchase, delivery, or consumption. The trend first emerged in South Korea before spreading globally, spawning a wave of copycat projects that cover everything from fake retail shopping on platforms like Dopamine Shop and Fakehaul to simulated vacation planning. The core insight driving these sites is a simple question that cuts through modern consumer culture: what do we actually get pleasure from when we shop or order online — the product itself, or the process of getting it?
The idea for the platform grew out of the founders’ own personal experiences with impulsive digital consumption. The pair, who met while studying computer science and now run AI product development firm NeuroX AI, noticed a common pattern in their own habits and those of people around them: filling online shopping carts with desired items, only to abandon the order without checking out. Sharma regularly browsed electronics, adding dozens of devices to his cart before closing the tab without buying. Parmar watched his mother do the same with household goods, adding items to her cart with a promise to ‘order later’ that never came. For Parmar himself, the pattern played out repeatedly on food delivery apps: during a two-month work project in Mumbai, he spent between 5,000 and 10,000 rupees per week on spontaneous takeout orders, often for treats like Belgian waffles, ice cream, and even a large jar of sour cream he had no use for and ended up giving away. That experience led him to a key realization: ‘perhaps the real craving was not always for the food, but for the ritual of ordering it.’
Parmar and Sharma argue that over time, the routine of ordering food becomes tied to the small rush of dopamine the act produces. What starts as a response to genuine hunger eventually becomes a go-to coping mechanism for boredom, stress, or habit — even when there is no physical need for food. ‘Sometimes you’re not hungry at all. You’re bored or busy, and then you realise that ordering food makes you feel good. You start associating the act of ordering with that dopamine hit. Eventually, it’s not just the food you want,’ Parmar explains.
Leading behavioral scientists and neuroscientists say the concept aligns with decades of research into how the brain processes reward and desire. Ravi Dhar, director of the Yale Center for Customer Insights, describes this experience as ‘anticipatory utility’ — the distinct pleasure that comes from looking forward to a desired experience. This anticipatory pleasure is often strongest for items that spark the imagination, from new shoes to a vacation to a restaurant meal, because the anticipation itself becomes a core part of the overall experience. In many cases, Dhar notes, the anticipation can be more enjoyable than actually owning or consuming the item: ‘The thrill is in the chase.’ Once the item is obtained and the tension of waiting is resolved, psychological arousal quickly fades.
Contrary to popular online framing that casts dopamine as simply the brain’s ‘pleasure chemical’, modern neuroscience draws a clear line between the desire to obtain something and the pleasure of having it. University of Michigan neuroscientist Kent Berridge, who developed the influential theory of separate ‘wanting’ and ‘liking’ brain processes, explains that dopamine primarily drives the motivation to pursue a reward — not the experience of pleasure that comes after getting it. This system, which Berridge calls ‘incentive salience’, can be triggered by tempting online products even when the eventual pleasure of ownership is minimal. ‘Some situations can trigger wanting by itself,’ Berridge says. ‘We can pursue something intensely even when the eventual pleasure is weak — or, in more everyday terms, want something more than we ultimately like it.’
Stanford University addiction psychiatrist and *Dopamine Nation* author Dr. Anna Lembke echoes this distinction, noting that framing dopamine as a pleasure chemical is a major oversimplification: ‘Dopamine is the molecule that says “get more of” or “do more of”, but it doesn’t necessarily equate to pleasure.’ She also points to the powerful role of ritual in reinforcing desire: the familiar routines that lead up to a reward can become reinforcing on their own, just as the pre-use rituals of drug addiction often become as meaningful to the user as the drug itself. ‘Anticipation of reward can be as reinforcing as the reward itself,’ she explains.
When it comes to whether repeatedly ordering imaginary food can actually satisfy a real craving, experts are divided. Berridge says the ritual could certainly produce a dopamine rush and activate the brain’s wanting system, but he expects the novelty of the experience to fade quickly, and would be surprised if most users return for more than a handful of orders. Dhar, however, is more open to the idea that simulated consumption can act as a healthy release valve for unmet consumer desires: ‘While we still need more empirical data to know if simulated shopping can satisfy a consumer urge, evidence from simulated consumption in gaming shows it can be highly effective,’ he says.
Others warn of a potential downside: the ritual of fake ordering could simply reinforce the same impulsive consumer habits it aims to address. Lembke notes that research is still ongoing, and the impact will likely vary from person to person, but she suspects that over time, these sites could end up ‘reinforcing the same addictive neural networks they are trying to simulate.’ That said, she sees one key silver lining: users who seek out these platforms have already acknowledged on some level that they struggle with impulsive consumption, and that acknowledgment is the first critical step toward making change.
Sharma himself has experienced the dynamic firsthand. When his smartphone screen cracked, he spent a full week comparing replacement screens on Amazon, adding multiple options to his cart before eventually repairing his original handset and never buying a new one. ‘I enjoyed the process of research and putting the phones in the cart,’ he says. ‘Eventually I didn’t buy a phone.’ Now he catches himself doing the same thing on food delivery apps when he feels anxious, filling his cart with dishes and never checking out — which led him to recognize his own pattern of impulsive browsing.
Beyond food, the founders have expanded their concept of simulated consumption to travel with a second platform: TripNeverLeaves. The site lets users plan an entire dream vacation, from choosing a destination and picking a flight seat to booking a hotel and selecting activities, before taking them on a virtual flight that never actually leaves the runway. So far, the site has drawn more than 100,000 visitors, demonstrating broad interest in the concept across different consumer activities. The FoodNeverComes blog also explores the deeper psychological side of the project, covering topics from food delivery addiction and the psychology of the abandoned shopping cart to the guilt that often follows impulsive ordering.
Lembke notes that younger users may be particularly susceptible to the reinforcing effects of these digital platforms, because the prefrontal cortex — the region of the brain that acts as a ‘brake’ on impulsive desire — does not fully finish developing until early adulthood. ‘In childhood and early adolescence, the front lobe… is not yet fully connected to the emotion centres of the brain. Hence, teens are more likely to take risks without appreciating the negative consequences, and more likely to get addicted to reinforcing substances and behaviours, once exposed,’ she explains.
For now, Parmar and Sharma say their projects are not intended to generate revenue. They plan to keep both platforms free for all users, and eventually share anonymized visitor data with neuroscientists and psychologists to support further research into consumer behavior. What started as a lighthearted joke about overordering takeout has grown into a provocative social experiment that poses a fundamental question about modern consumer culture: when so much of the thrill of consumption comes from the anticipation before we get what we want, do we actually need to buy the thing at all?