When fast food runs to red states

Some brands wear their geography like a nametag. KFC — short for Kentucky Fried Chicken — is practically a billboard for a place, conjuring Southern porches, secret spice blends and a folksy Americana that’s baked into its DNA.In-N-Out has no state in its name, but after more than 70 years of slinging burgers in California, it’s become inseparable from that state’s identity: drive-thru palms, sun-dappled paper trays and the slightly smug glow of regional pride.

So what does it mean when brands like these — companies with deep roots and cultural weight — start pulling up stakes and heading for redder pastures?

Lately, a number of major food and restaurant brands have been relocating or expanding their headquarters to conservative-leaning states like Texas and Tennessee. Yum! Brands — the parent company of KFC, Pizza Hut and Taco Bell — recently opened a second HQ in Plano. In-N-Out, long a symbol of California cool, is building an East Coast territory out of Tennessee.

Even celebrity chefs like Gordon Ramsay are planting flags in Texas.

It’s easy to write this off as tax math — and yes, lower corporate taxes and friendlier regulatory environments are part of the draw (KFC, after all, isn’t leaving a blue state — just trading one shade of red for another.). But so is a broader realignment: of brand identity, political alignment and where power is pooling in post-pandemic America.

If the breakup between Kentucky and KFC had a mood, it was one of quiet disappointment — a long relationship ending with minimal drama and a few earnest press statements. When Yum! Brands announced it was relocating its KFC headquarters from Louisville to Plano, Texas, local leaders were quick to voice regret, but not rage.

“I am disappointed by this decision and believe the company’s founder would be, too,” Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear said in a statement. “This company’s name starts with Kentucky, and it has marketed our state’s heritage and culture in the sale of its product.” Louisville’s mayor, Craig Greenberg, echoed the sentiment, calling the brand “synonymous with Kentucky.”

Yum’s CEO, David Gibbs, offered the usual corporate boilerplate: the move would support “sustainable growth” and better serve customers, employees, and shareholders. No one threw punches. It was, as corporate divorces go, relatively clean.

But in California, the tone has been a little different.

Lynsi Snyder — In-N-Out’s president and the granddaughter of its founders — has been far more direct about why the company is shifting some of its operations east. On a recent episode of The Relatable Podcast, Snyder said that doing business in California had simply become too difficult. “There’s a lot of great things about California,” she said. “But raising a family is not easy here. Doing business is not easy here.”

In 2024, In-N-Out announced plans to open a second headquarters in Tennessee. Its Irvine, California office will shutter by 2030, and Snyder said that pandemic-era tensions helped cement the decision. During COVID-19, several In-N-Out locations clashed with local health officials over mask and vaccine requirements. “There were so many pressures and hoops we were having to jump through,” Snyder said. “You’ve got to do this. You have to have this plastic thing between us and our customers. It was really terrible.”

Two locations were temporarily closed by California officials for refusing to enforce vaccine mandates. Snyder said she has no regrets. “We were shut down for a brief moment, but it’s worth it. A lot of people were charged by that move.”

Shortly after, she said she realized she needed to move (though has since clarified in a statement that she is “very proud of where In-N-Out started. Anyone who knows me knows how often I talk about our beginnings and how our customers here in California helped bring us to where we are today.”)

Of course, this isn’t a trend unique to the restaurant industry. Over the last decade, California has watched a steady stream of businesses — from tech giants to logistics firms — pack up and head for redder pastures. Elon Musk moved Tesla’s headquarters to Austin. Oracle, Hewlett Packard Enterprise and Charles Schwab followed. And while motivations range from taxes to cultural alignment, the bumper-sticker warning “Don’t California My Texas” has emerged as a kind of protective spell.

It makes sense that restaurants — already operating on razor-thin margins — would be especially vulnerable to that same gravitational pull. A headquarters relocation is cheaper than building a factory. And for brands still recovering from pandemic-era whiplash, red states offer something undeniably appealing: lower costs, looser rules and an eager welcome.

Texas leads that charge. The state has no corporate income tax, relatively low commercial property taxes and a regulatory environment that’s famously hands-off. Add to that a sprawling transportation network, fast-growing cities and generous incentive packages — tax abatements, relocation grants, expedited permitting — and it’s little wonder that companies from multiple sectors now treat Texas as a default destination.

Tennessee offers a similar pitch, but with a slightly softer delivery. There’s no state income tax, a modest corporate tax rate and a low cost of living that makes it easy to recruit and retain workers. As a right-to-work state, Tennessee also appeals to companies looking to avoid union entanglements. In recent years, it has quietly lured a roster of major players — from Ford’s electric vehicle campus to In-N-Out’s new eastern headquarters — with a cocktail of tax incentives, cheap land, and logistical ease.

At first glance, it might not seem like a big deal where the people in suits make decisions about burger pricing or fried chicken innovation. Whether a new menu item gets greenlit from Louisville or Plano doesn’t exactly stir the national soul. Headquarters are, more often than not, just beige office parks where people say things like “synergy” and “Q4 snack innovation.”

But we’re living in a moment where fast food is doing a strange kind of double duty — not just feeding us, but telegraphing tribal affiliations. Donald Trump campaigned from a McDonald’s drive-thru. RFK Jr. more recently stood in a Steak ’n Shake proclaiming that the fries had been “RFK-ed,” now cooked in beef tallow, making them patriotic again — or at least palatable to a certain slice of the electorate.

So sure, these corporate moves might not mean much. Not yet. They may be just another round of tax-friendly relocations and sunbelt sprawl.

But in a country where what you eat, where it’s made and how it’s fried can become a political statement, it’s worth paying attention to where the brands are going — and what kind of story they’re trying to tell when they get there.