Hybrid meat products are the "next big thing" — except, they're not exactly "next," having been around for decades, and consumers seem not at all interested in seeing the category get big.

Combining meat and some vegetable input is a sensible step, especially these days as the ongoing dietary debate tries to force consumers on one side or the other of a great protein divide. Diners can sneak more plants into their (or their kids') meals without feeling like they're giving something up, and animal protein retains star billing (and sales) as the preferred taste-maker. Die-hard omnivores can "do something for the planet" and still sink their teeth into a juicy burger.

Besides, the concept is hardly new. Beef burgers with soy protein are common in foodservice. Spam is an 87-year-old meat-potato combination. Applegate Farms' meat-and-veggie-combo Well Carved brand is younger — four years old — but supported by strong CPG organizations, as are Perdue Farms Protein Plus chicken-and-vegetable nuggets.

So why do consumers, at least while they're covered by the invisibility cloak of social media, recoil when introduced to the idea of a plant-meat blended product? "Another bio-bag in center aisle that gets tossed in the dumpster." "Frankenfood." And the predictable abuse that will be aimed at the poster: "Obviously you need nutrition education and to spend time growing your own instead of swallowing toxic ideology that fake slimes will sustain health."

Dr. Sophie Attwood, senior behavioral scientist for the World Resources Institute, has some solid theories as to why consumers are so self-contradictory.

"A further read of social media comments reveals more about the psychology behind why blended meats have failed to excite consumer imagination despite a growing addressable market of ‘flexitarian’ consumers," she wrote in a recent article in Psychology Today, "The Sustainable Food Solution That Satisfies No One — Personal Perspective: The Problem of Marketing 'Blended' Meats."

For example, consumers are weirded out by the idea of combining meat with a fungus, especially if it has the alien-sounding designation of "mycoprotein." "Soy" is off-putting now because of its allergenicity but also because some consumers believe it tangles with their hormone systems. Consumers' objections carry over, Dr. Attwood wrote, even if the "blend" is with familiar lentils or mushrooms.

As well, the hybrid market entrants will, in consumers' minds, compare unfavorably with 100% meat products simply because "familiarity tends to create liking." Blind taste tests have shown that blended meat products pass with flying colors; the barriers go up when they know ahead of time that it's different.

Attwood, using Hormel's Spam as her lead example, recommends "selling" meat-plant hybrids by leading with the adjectives: "less sodium," "more nutrition" and the like. Leave the plant-based specifics for the tiny print on the back; the less consumers see the product as a compromise, the better.

To seasoned meat marketers, such suggestions are elementary. I still say they're worth keeping top-of-mind. We do face the prospect of feeding billions more people; the calculations indicate that using plants to stretch meat proteins further is probably inevitable, and getting ahead of that curve — even if it's arrival is still decades into the future — will be necessary for corporate survival. Consumers are tough old dogs to teach new tricks to, and it would benefit meat processors to start with tiny steps now.

So, what kind of meat-plant hybrid ideas is your company working on?

Hybrid or die!

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