The debate around Joe Wicks’ “killer” protein bar has split the food world. Some argue that ultra-processed foods are being unfairly demonised, while others insist they’re the enemy of public health. The truth lies somewhere in between. What is certain is that the system producing these foods is what’s broken.
My team at Good Food Studio formulated that bar to the exact brief Joe Wicks’ team gave us. Two hundred health claims? Fine. High protein? Done. Add anti-claims with health warnings? New for us, but achievable. Ninety-six ingredients and a fair bit of processing later, the brief was met.
This is the reality of food development.
Gaming the (food) system
We work with founders who care deeply about health, and others who simply want to hit the numbers at the lowest cost. The brief often reads the same: “Make it fit the macros. How you get there doesn’t matter.” In a market driven by margins and marketing, shortcuts become the norm. Additives, stabilisers and flavour systems are the tools that make food cheaper, tastier and longer lasting.
The HFSS framework, created to guide better nutrition, is easily gamified. A few functional fibres or sugar alcohols can make a label look “cleaner” while moving the product further away from real food. It’s like a firewall hacked by the very people it was meant to keep out.
Chris van Tulleken puts it well: UPFs aren’t evil because of any single molecule, but because they reflect a system that rewards engineering over nourishment. They’re built for efficiency, profit and scale, not long-term health.
Most founders don’t set out to make bad food. It starts with a gap in the market, amplified by social media trends and fitness influencers. A new brand takes shape, usually with good intentions. But once distributors, retailers and middlemen take their share, the only way to hit cost and shelf-life targets is through serious UPF intervention.
Clean deck vs functional dirty
Behind the scenes, developers like us open the back door to the engine room of the modern food industry. Welcome to Willy Wonka’s factory of magic white powders designed to fix almost anything. Most come in two flavours: “clean deck”, if they can be disguised on the label as a store-cupboard ingredient, and “functional dirty”, if they sound slightly worse. What they share is complexity, heavy processing, and the ability to work miracles.
Need a longer shelf life, firmer texture or better HFSS score? There’s a powder for that. Some you’ll never see on the label. The best-performing additives sit behind patents, and often even the companies selling them don’t fully know how they’re made.
When the system rewards efficiency and claims over integrity, the results are inevitable. Protein bars are the perfect example: marketed as “better-for-you” but often built with the same base chemistry as confectionery.
So no, I don’t think Joe Wicks set out to shame consumers away from their “healthier” snacks. We used the same rulebook to create the killer bar as the rest of the industry, and that alone should concern anyone being targeted by these “healthier” products.
We need to realign the incentives. Clearer regulation on claims, transparency around ingredients, and education about what “healthier” actually means would be a good start. Until then, we’ll keep producing “healthier” products that aren’t, and well-intentioned debates will keep doing what they always do: missing the point.
Amir Mousavi, founder and food consultant, Good Food Studio
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