I Ate at the World’s First AI-Run Restaurant: Here’s What Happened

The Hype Was Unreal

When “Automata” opened in San Francisco last month, the internet lost its mind. A fully AI-run restaurant? No human chefs, no waiters, not even a host. Just robots, conveyor belts, and a giant AI brain called “Chef.” I saw the TikToks. The glowing reviews. The claims that this was the future of dining.

I had to see it for myself. So I booked a table (via their app, of course) and dragged my friend Sarah along. She’s a professional chef. I wanted someone who’d actually know if the food was good or just hype.

Here’s what happened when we walked in.

First Impressions: Like a Theme Park Kitchen

The space is sleek—all white surfaces, LED lights, and a giant screen showing real-time data on orders. A robotic arm waves at you as you enter. It’s cute for about 30 seconds. Then you realize you’re in a room full of machines and no one to ask questions.

The ordering process is all via a tablet at your table. You browse a menu of 12 dishes, each described in clinical detail. “Grilled salmon, 180g, cooked at 58°C for 14 minutes, served with dill foam.” No passion. No personality. Just data.

Sarah pointed out that the descriptions were oddly precise. “They’re telling you everything except whether it tastes good,” she said.

The Food: Surprisingly Good (With One Exception)

I ordered the salmon and a mushroom risotto. Sarah got the steak and the chocolate dessert. The food arrived via a conveyor belt that stopped at our table. A robotic arm placed the plates down gently. It was efficient, I’ll give it that.

The salmon was perfect. Flaky, moist, with a crispy skin that crackled when I bit into it. The dill foam was light and aromatic. I honestly couldn’t tell it wasn’t made by a human chef. The risotto was creamy, the mushrooms earthy. I was impressed.

But the steak? Disaster. It came out medium-rare as ordered, but it was tough. Chewy. Sarah took one bite and put her fork down. “Overcooked on the inside, somehow,” she said. “The AI doesn’t understand carryover cooking.” The chocolate dessert was fine—technically perfect but uninspired. Like eating a math equation.

The Service: Cold and Confusing

Here’s where things get weird. No one checks on you. No one asks if you need more water. If you have a problem, you use the tablet to call “support,” which is a chat bot. I tried to ask about the steak, and the bot suggested I order a different dish. Not helpful.

Halfway through the meal, a robot rolled up to our table and beeped. A screen on its face said: “Enjoying your meal?” I said, “Not really,” and the robot beeped again and rolled away. No follow-up. No empathy.

Sarah summed it up: “It’s like eating in a vending machine that’s been given ambition.”

The Price: Surprisingly Reasonable

Given the hype, I expected to pay $200 per person. The total for both of us was $86. That’s cheap for San Francisco. The AI model lets them cut labor costs, and they pass the savings on. I respect that. But I’d rather pay more for a human touch.

The Bigger Question: Is This the Future?

Automata’s CEO, a former Google engineer named Lisa Chen, told Wired that the goal isn’t to replace chefs, but to democratize fine dining. “Good food shouldn’t require a $200 per person price tag,” she said. I get that. I really do. But eating at Automata felt like a transaction, not an experience.

Food isn’t just fuel. It’s culture, emotion, and connection. A robot can cook a salmon perfectly, but it can’t tell you the story of where it came from. It can’t recommend a wine based on your mood. It can’t laugh at your terrible joke about the risotto.

That matters. Maybe not to everyone, but it matters to me.

Would I Go Back?

I’d go back for the salmon. Seriously, it was that good. But I’d go with low expectations for everything else. Automata is a fascinating experiment, and I’m glad it exists. It pushes boundaries and makes us think about what we value in dining. But it’s not a replacement for a real restaurant. Not yet.

If you’re in San Francisco, check it out for the novelty. Just don’t bring a chef friend unless you want to hear a lot of sighing.