Remembering Food Tech Pioneer and Friend Rob Trice

No matter who you talk to in the world of food or ag innovation, if you ask whether they know Rob Trice, chances are the answer will be yes.

That’s only partly due to Rob’s seeming omnipresence at nearly every food or ag innovation event across the globe over the past decade. I know he was certainly at many of the ones I attended. But the thing is, lots of people go to lots of events, and you may never really get to know them. Not so with Rob. If you were in the same room with him, chances are you were laughing at one of his jokes, gaining valuable insight, or making a meaningful connection.

Last month, Rob passed away after a brief illness while traveling for work in Europe.

I first met Rob back in 2015 when I started attending his Mixing Bowl events in the Bay Area. I remember hearing from his coworkers and partners that the events didn’t make any money, but Rob loved hosting them because, well, he loved meeting and talking with smart people.

I was new to the food tech world then, having just started the Smart Kitchen Summit, but Rob didn’t hesitate to introduce me to people who would become great connections and friends, including Brita Rosenheim, Merril Gilbert and many others.

As the past decade marched on, I would run into Rob at events all over the world, whether in Japan for Smart Kitchen Summit, in the Bay Area for food tech gatherings, or in Chicago or New York for the Google Food Lab.

As many events as I’ve been to over the past ten-plus years, I could only aspire to be as present in the moment as Rob was. No matter who was on stage or speaking in front of the room, there was a good chance that if Rob was there, he’d ask a thoughtful question that framed the discussion in a new and interesting way.

I remember spending an evening with Rob in Tokyo in 2024. He was there to speak at Smart Kitchen Summit Japan, and on the first night, I was heading out to dinner with my wife, Tiffany, when we happened to bump into him on the street. Rob joined us, and over the course of that evening, he talked about his years living in Tokyo, his time working in telecom, venture capital, and policy analysis, and about helping to build a regenerative farm with his wife Wendy.

Thinking back on that night—and all the time I spent with Rob over the past ten years—it’s clear that Rob was one of those rare people who seemed to have figured something out. He managed to do meaningful work that helped forge paths for others while also living deeply in the world he was helping build, sharing his passion in the moment with everyone around him, all while enjoying the heck out of it all.

I’m not the only one who feels that way. Sara Roversi, who leads the Future Food Institute, wrote about how much Rob had touched her life over the past decade:

“You were one of the first people I met when I arrived in California. Introduced by Tim, master of connections and collisions. But you were one those few big buddies who grounded me at the beginning. The quiet force. The steady compass. Ten years ago I came with my students looking for food tech. You took us to the soil. Not slides. Not pitch decks. Soil.

You made us walk the ranch, smell the earth, sit in a circle on hay bales, listen to farmers, ask better questions. You were practicing regenerative agriculture when nobody was applauding it. You never chased trends within the sick world of “pop” blinded investments. You built what matters.”

Others shared memories of Rob as well, including his coworkers on LinkedIn:

To know Rob was to know there was not a microphone he didn’t love. He always had an insightful perspective to voice, and questions to ask that pushed others to think deeper. He had serious intentions, but didn’t take himself too seriously. He could be silly (and loved his own creative acronyms), always laughing with a mischievous smile! Rob was warm, compassionate, and gregarious — a person whose presence brought people together.

Rob’s legacy will continue through all the startups he backed, the community networks he nurtured, and the ideas he fostered. But most importantly, it lives on in all of us who had the gift of knowing him, even if for far too brief a time.

I was in Europe last month when I heard of Rob’s passing. I was shocked, as were those with me, but it didn’t take long for us to begin sharing stories about how Rob had impacted our lives. And to a person, everyone who knew Rob had been impacted in some way.

We laughed. We shared stories. And we raised a drink in his memory.

I have a feeling Rob would have wanted it that way.

Image Credit: Sara Roversi

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