A few weeks ago, my wife told me about an app called Yuka. What it does is scan the barcodes of food products and cosmetics and then give you a health rating out of 100. You can also drill deeper if you'd like to better understand why a particular food item is healthy — or not healthy.
Since then, a few things have happened:
I've told as many people as possible about it. (I have my parents scanning at the grocery store.)
Grocery shopping takes a lot longer. (I have a colleague who has been mistaken for a store employee while using the app.)
We've made meaningful changes to the food we buy.
And it's not like we weren't trying to shop healthy before.
It works a lot like France's Nutri-Score, except you have to do a bit more work. As soon as I see a low score, I no longer want the product and I move on to an alternative or I eschew it altogether. I can only imagine the positive impact that an app like this will have on our health and on the broader food landscape as our individual decisions compound over time.
It also feels like a perfect use case for augmented reality and spatial computing. Right now, I have to juggle my phone in one hand and a basket in the other. But imagine a world where I can just pick up a package of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and my glasses will automatically tell me they're a 0/100. That world is coming.
If you care about the food you put into your body, I would highly recommend downloading Yuka on your phone. Ignorance is bliss until you're no longer ignorant.
France uses a nutritional rating system for the front of food packaging called a "Nutri-Score." Other countries have introduced similar initiatives, but supposedly France was the first to use this particular rating system, which ranges from A (best) to E (worst).
Here's what it looks like on a package of chorizo:
A few weeks ago, my wife told me about an app called Yuka. What it does is scan the barcodes of food products and cosmetics and then give you a health rating out of 100. You can also drill deeper if you'd like to better understand why a particular food item is healthy — or not healthy.
Since then, a few things have happened:
I've told as many people as possible about it. (I have my parents scanning at the grocery store.)
Grocery shopping takes a lot longer. (I have a colleague who has been mistaken for a store employee while using the app.)
We've made meaningful changes to the food we buy.
And it's not like we weren't trying to shop healthy before.
It works a lot like France's Nutri-Score, except you have to do a bit more work. As soon as I see a low score, I no longer want the product and I move on to an alternative or I eschew it altogether. I can only imagine the positive impact that an app like this will have on our health and on the broader food landscape as our individual decisions compound over time.
It also feels like a perfect use case for augmented reality and spatial computing. Right now, I have to juggle my phone in one hand and a basket in the other. But imagine a world where I can just pick up a package of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and my glasses will automatically tell me they're a 0/100. That world is coming.
If you care about the food you put into your body, I would highly recommend downloading Yuka on your phone. Ignorance is bliss until you're no longer ignorant.
France uses a nutritional rating system for the front of food packaging called a "Nutri-Score." Other countries have introduced similar initiatives, but supposedly France was the first to use this particular rating system, which ranges from A (best) to E (worst).
Here's what it looks like on a package of chorizo:
Nutri-Scores were first introduced in supermarkets in 2017 and are applied on a voluntary basis. But having been in a handful of French grocery stores over the last week, I can tell you that it is widely used. So much so that I was more surprised when it wasn't there. What might they be trying to hide?
The Nutri-Score is also widely supported by the general public and, according to some surveys, nearly 90% of the French population believe that it should be mandatory on all food packaging.
So how does it work? The system is based on an algorithm that looks out for good stuff like fruits and vegetables, fiber, protein, and healthy oils, while penalizing bad stuff like sugar, saturated fat, and sodium, among other things.
It's an algorithm that is likely to be in constant flux. My understanding is that they have special rules for things like cheese. But regardless, I find that this simple rating system has a significant impact on my buying and eating decisions. Take the above chorizo. It has a score of "E." Do I really want that or should I go for the jambon next door that has a rating of "B?"
This also made me think of France's mandatory Energy Performance Certificate (or Diagnostic de Performance Énergétique). This is a diagnostic that is required of all properties being sold or rented in the country.
It ranks both energy consumption and CO2 emissions from A (most efficient) to G (least efficient). It also provides recommended renovations. And if you lie — and actual performance deviates too far from the stated rating — you could be in trouble.
But just like the Nutri-Score, I am sure that these energy efficiency scores similarly affect buying and renting decisions, especially if there's a capital expenditure recommendation tied to a low score.
This is how commercial real estate is bought and sold. A building condition assessment is done, somebody comes up with a cost for all the work that will need to be done, and then it gets factored into the price: "Yeah, so, I was going to pay you $50 million, but now I have to spend $2 million on CapEx."
But on the residential side, I don't think this is often the case. Not unless someone is measuring performance and telling you what improvements should be made and, in some cases, need to be made for the property to be legally rentable. Out of sight is out of mind.
No businessperson, landlord, or entrepreneur wants to deal with more bureaucracy and red tape. But I'm of the strong opinion that too much of the food we eat is over-processed shit. I also believe in continually striving to be better — especially when it comes to our built environment. And that starts with measurement and benchmarking.
Nutri-Scores were first introduced in supermarkets in 2017 and are applied on a voluntary basis. But having been in a handful of French grocery stores over the last week, I can tell you that it is widely used. So much so that I was more surprised when it wasn't there. What might they be trying to hide?
The Nutri-Score is also widely supported by the general public and, according to some surveys, nearly 90% of the French population believe that it should be mandatory on all food packaging.
So how does it work? The system is based on an algorithm that looks out for good stuff like fruits and vegetables, fiber, protein, and healthy oils, while penalizing bad stuff like sugar, saturated fat, and sodium, among other things.
It's an algorithm that is likely to be in constant flux. My understanding is that they have special rules for things like cheese. But regardless, I find that this simple rating system has a significant impact on my buying and eating decisions. Take the above chorizo. It has a score of "E." Do I really want that or should I go for the jambon next door that has a rating of "B?"
This also made me think of France's mandatory Energy Performance Certificate (or Diagnostic de Performance Énergétique). This is a diagnostic that is required of all properties being sold or rented in the country.
It ranks both energy consumption and CO2 emissions from A (most efficient) to G (least efficient). It also provides recommended renovations. And if you lie — and actual performance deviates too far from the stated rating — you could be in trouble.
But just like the Nutri-Score, I am sure that these energy efficiency scores similarly affect buying and renting decisions, especially if there's a capital expenditure recommendation tied to a low score.
This is how commercial real estate is bought and sold. A building condition assessment is done, somebody comes up with a cost for all the work that will need to be done, and then it gets factored into the price: "Yeah, so, I was going to pay you $50 million, but now I have to spend $2 million on CapEx."
But on the residential side, I don't think this is often the case. Not unless someone is measuring performance and telling you what improvements should be made and, in some cases, need to be made for the property to be legally rentable. Out of sight is out of mind.
No businessperson, landlord, or entrepreneur wants to deal with more bureaucracy and red tape. But I'm of the strong opinion that too much of the food we eat is over-processed shit. I also believe in continually striving to be better — especially when it comes to our built environment. And that starts with measurement and benchmarking.
