Today I Learned: The Story of MSG—Once Out of Favor, Now the King of Flavor

If flavor had a monarchy, MSG, or monosodium glutamate, would be the ruler with the longest, albeit most scandalous reign. Discovered in Japan in 1908, embraced across Asia, demonized in the West, and now redeemed by science and Michelin-starred chefs alike, MSG has been quietly shaping the taste of the modern world for over a century.

Chinese stir-fries, Italian Parmesan, Korean kimchi jjigae, American Doritos? The common denominator is MSG. Face it: this taste-enhancing crystal is everywhere, whether you realize it or not. Whether you want to or not.

MSG is not just an ingredient anymore. It would be more appropriate to consider it a cultural lightning rod or, perhaps, even a culinary secret weapon. It is, after all, the purest distillation of what we now call umami. And its journey from kombu broth to kitchen counter is one of the most misunderstood, and delicious, stories in food history.

The seaweed epiphany

The official history of MSG started in 1908. Japanese chemist Kikunae Ikeda was eating his wife’s kombu dashi when he noticed a taste that wasn’t salty, sweet, sour, or bitter. It was something new; and it could only be described as rich, savory, almost meaty. He isolated the source: glutamic acid, which naturally occurs in seaweed. By binding it to sodium for stability, he created monosodium glutamate, the pure crystallized form of that elusive flavor.

Ikeda named the taste umami, which means “deliciousness” in Japanese. He later patented the process and sold the patent to his friend Saburosuke Suzuki. Ajinomoto was born, and MSG became commercially available in 1909.

Within a year, they were churning hundreds of kilos of Ajinomoto for the domestic market. By the 1920s, production had exploded into the thousands of tons, and Ajinomoto was opening overseas offices in Taiwan, Korea, and Manchuria (territories under Japanese control at the time). Inadvertently, their efforts embedded MSG into the cooking DNA of half the region.

In the decades before WWII, Ajinomoto wasn’t just selling seasoning; it was feeding an empire. MSG was shipped in bulk to military kitchens, school canteens, and restaurant suppliers. In a Japan recovering from economic hardship, cheap food began to taste luxurious thanks to a few shakes of this “magic powder.” Across Asia, it was marketed as the modern housewife’s secret weapon. A pinch could make weekday cabbage taste like Sunday feast chicken.

By the 1930s, Ajinomoto was producing over 10,000 tons of MSG a year, and the white crystals had become such a household fixture that “Ajinomoto” became shorthand for umami itself. The profits from those early decades funded Ajinomoto’s leap into other foods, pharmaceuticals, and even fermentation technologies.

The fall from grace

Then came the late 1960s, and with it, MSG’s fall from grace—at least in the West.

In 1968, a physician named Dr. Robert Ho Man Kwok wrote a curt letter to the New England Journal of Medicine, describing how he sometimes felt flushed, tingly, and headachy after eating in American Chinese restaurants. The journal’s editors dubbed it “Chinese Restaurant Syndrome,” a catchy, vaguely exotic term that spread faster than a rumor in a mahjong hall.

Within months, newspapers were running scare pieces about “mysterious chemicals” in Chinese food. Never mind that the evidence was anecdotal, that follow-up studies were inconclusive at best, or that the symptoms could easily be chalked up to overeating, too much sodium, or just a lot of mai tais. The subtext was clear: Chinese food was suspicious, and so were the people cooking it.

No to ‘processed’ food

MSG soon became synonymous with “artificial” and “unhealthy.” With its three-letter acronym, scientific-sounding name and white crystalline powder appearance, the ingredient looked like the poster child for synthetic additives, even though it’s a refined amino acid. The name alone made it sound like something cooked up in a sinister lab, not extracted from wheat, sugar beets or seaweed.

It was also the era when “processed” became a dirty word in American food culture. 

The irony? While MSG was being villainized in egg rolls and chop suey, Western diners were happily devouring glutamate-rich foods like sun-ripened tomatoes, aged Parmesan, dry-cured ham, and mushrooms.

Most of these ingredients have even higher glutamate levels than a bowl of wonton soup. Somehow, when it came sprinkled on spaghetti, it was “umami.” When it came in a Chinese takeout carton, it was a “toxin.”

The MSG redemption arc

Fast-forward to now, and MSG is having what can only be described as a glow-up. After decades of bad PR, chefs, scientists, and savvy eaters are reclaiming it—not just as a culinary shortcut, but as a point of pride.

Heavy-hitters like David Chang have openly evangelized its use, sprinkling it over Momofuku’s fried chicken like fairy dust. The late Floyd Cardoz championed it in spice blends, treating it as just another essential in the cook’s arsenal, right next to salt and pepper. Comedian and cooking show critic Uncle Roger (Nigel Ng) screams it at the top of his lungs whenever he can.

Outside fine dining, MSG has been hiding in plain sight this whole time. It’s the secret handshake in Doritos’ flavor formula, the unseen backbone of instant ramen, the “natural flavor” on the back of your favorite potato chips. In other words, you’ve probably been eating it and loving it for years without knowing.

Now, the cool kids are in on it. In London, MSG-powered ramen shops draw lines around the block; in Paris, “bistronomy” chefs stir it into pan sauces with a conspiratorial grin, as if to say, We know what makes you keep licking the spoon. Across Asia, where it never really left, MSG sits in kitchen cabinets next to soy sauce, unbothered by Western hang-ups.

The stigma is dissolving, replaced by a more honest truth: MSG doesn’t just make food taste “better.” It amplifies its inherent personality. Tomatoes taste tomato-er, chicken tastes chicken-er. It’s like turning up the saturation on a photograph. Suddenly, the flavors feel vivid, dimensional and alive.

The MSG industry and forecast

If umami is the fifth taste, MSG is its global currency, and the market continues to boom. Sure, Ajinomoto is the godfather of the business, but step back and you’ll see an entire flavor economy that hums far beyond Japan’s borders.

In Asia, MSG isn’t an “ingredient.” It’s oxygen. The Asia-Pacific region chews through almost half of the worldwide demand, accounting for 48 percent of global revenue. China alone accounts for roughly 40 percent of that. Major players in the global MSG market include Japanese company Ajinomoto and Chinese giants like Fufeng Group and Meihua Holdings Group. These companies are heavily invested in production. For example, Ajinomoto announced a significant investment in its Thailand plant in 2023, while Meihua Holdings has made large-scale capital investments to expand its fermentation capabilities.

But the West, once smugly MSG-averse, is slowly buying in. The North American MSG market is valued at approximately $1.17 billion in 2024 and is projected to flourish even further (the global estimate is $7.6 billion by 2030). The European market, while smaller, is also expanding. This growth is linked to an increased appreciation for umami flavors and the widespread use of MSG in processed foods, seasonings and prepared meals.

In other words: MSG isn’t just a seasoning. Empire is probably a more encompassing term. And like all great empires, it thrives on taste, trade, and a little bit of secrecy.