The inventory of my kitchen bin is as follows: a bottle of Garnier Ultimate Blends Honey Treasures conditioner, the dregs of some oat milk and a packet of Extra sugar-free chewing gum.
All are at least half-full. I’m debating whether or not four slices of brown bread will join them. This is slightly irritating; it’s not even stale. And it’s from Waitrose!
But I have no choice. They’ve scored too low to pass muster in my household. So, I’m chucking the offenders out.
Why am I binning perfectly good food? Because an app told me to. Hello, my name is Olivia, and I am addicted to Yuka.
This app was launched in 2017 by three French techies to help people eat and live better, and has since gained 50 million users across 12 countries.
Yuka was launched in 2017 by three French techies to help people eat and live better, and has since gained 50 million users across 12 countries
Scan the barcode of any food or cosmetic product and you’ll get a score out of 100 based on how many chemicals and additives it’s packed with (pictured: Yuka app)
Scan the barcode of any food or cosmetic product and you’ll get a score out of 100 based on how many chemicals and additives it’s packed with and, in the case of food, its nutritional value.
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Along with the score is a judgment ranging from ‘Excellent’ to ‘Bad’. (I got a verdict of ‘bad’ on a bottle of apparently noxious shampoo that scored zero, which makes one wonder if a stronger word should be used, or perhaps a siren sounded.)
I’ll admit I’m an obsessive character, and the quality of food I eat has been a fixation since Chris van Tulleken’s book Ultra Processed People opened my eyes to how stuffed with nasties many of our favourites are and the serious health consequences of consuming them.
A recent study by the World Health Organisation blamed Ultra Processed Foods (UPFs) together with tobacco, alcohol and fossil fuels for causing the deaths of 2.7 million people in Europe annually.
The resulting craze for ‘whole foods’ (those left close to their natural state) has spread like a virus through my 20-something friends. One, a lawyer, now gets up at 5.30am to bake loaves of sourdough bread.
So with my organic spinach and green juices I was a perfect target for Yuka, with its seeming authority on all things healthy. I now religiously scan everything before I buy.
Since downloading Yuka, the cost of my weekly food shop has risen by a not-inconsiderable £15 (file photo)
Yuka is independent, its analysis not based on affiliation with any brand, making it relatively trustworthy (stock photo)
It’s not just me; a colleague confessed she finds it stressful to go to other people’s houses, as in polite society it’s considered rude to go around ‘yuka-ing’ your host’s hand soap.
Getting a good score on your stuff, though, is quite the status symbol. It’s no surprise that more affordable products tend to score lower, packed with poorer-quality ingredients that lose you valuable points.
I calculated that since downloading Yuka, the cost of my weekly food shop has risen by a not-inconsiderable £15.
And if you’re not careful to Yuka before you reach the checkout, it can result in inexcusable food waste. I was shocked to see even middle-class health queen Deliciously Ella’s tiny bags of Chocolate Orange dipped almonds were a ‘poor’ snack (35/100), and would thus be a wasted £2.90.
Yuka is independent, its analysis not based on affiliation with any brand, making it relatively trustworthy. But it’s certainly not infallible. Its database contains information for five million products, but that information comes solely from app users who contribute data on their weekly shop and from the brands themselves.
And the ratings have been met with some scepticism.
For example, the aforementioned nul-points shampoo contains ‘hazardous’ methylchloroisothiazolinone, a preservative in cosmetics. It’s harmful to marine life and allergenic to humans.
Yuka’s database contains information for five million products
In other words, it merits its abysmal score. But scan Tesco’s Orange and Mango juice, which contains only orange juice and mango puree, with no preservatives, and you’ll still get a ‘Poor’ verdict of 30/100. The breakdown shows it is ‘too caloric’ at 50kcals per 100ml and ‘too sweet’, with 9.7g of naturally-occurring sugars.
Those with a little perspective will see the health benefits outweigh the negatives here. But at first glance, this one-size-fits-all system makes a healthy choice seem akin to having a vodka Red Bull with your breakfast.
Beauty experts also point out Yuka fails to consider the concentration or quantity of ingredients, as they aren’t usually listed on products. So, it rates UV filters as possible hormone disruptors and ‘hazardous’.
Yet they’re essential for sun protection, and permitted in concentrations of up to 10 per cent in both the EU and U.S.
Still, I’m continuing to zap everything in sight. It’s got so bad my flatmate had to have a conversation with me about Yuka Boundaries; who knew some people didn’t want to know the score of their Oreos? (18/100, if you were wondering.)
As she pointed out, she didn’t buy the biscuits, chocolate or crisps in the hope they had great nutritional value.
So, I must keep my habit in the shadows, scanning when nobody is looking, reminding myself, smugly, that it’s better than being addicted to UPFs.