Let’s talk about food. Not the romanticized, farm-to-table idealism or the soul-soothing street food of a back alley in Bangkok, but the cold, processed reality of what lines the shelves of American grocery stores. The fluorescent-lit aisles are a neon jungle of bright colors, bold fonts, and promises of “great taste!”—a cacophony of marketing so loud it drowns out the fine print. Because hiding in that fine print is the ugly truth: the United States is a playground for chemicals and additives that most of the world wouldn’t dream of allowing near their food supply.
Take a moment to consider this: Do you really want Red Dye 40, Yellow 5, and Blue 1—chemical cocktails with no business being in food—just because the U.S. law allows it? Canada and Europe certainly don’t. They have this crazy idea called the precautionary principle, which says if a chemical poses even a hint of unnecessary risk, you err on the side of caution. You don’t need a PhD in biochemistry to get it—why take the risk when natural alternatives exist? In Europe, that same colorful candy might get its red from beet juice or its yellow from turmeric. Meanwhile, in the U.S., you’re scarfing down petroleum-derived dyes that sound more like paint ingredients than something you’d willingly ingest.
And then there’s butylated hydroxytoluene—or BHT. Just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? It’s a lab-made chemical added “for freshness,” as if the food was plucked off some futuristic assembly line. But here’s the kicker: Japanese researchers linked BHT to cancer. The result? They banned it. So did Europe. Meanwhile, in the land of the free, it’s still lurking in breakfast cereals, snacks, and anything else that promises to stay “fresh” until the next presidential election. Removing BHT isn’t just possible; it’s been done. Other countries manage to keep their food fresh without it, freeing their citizens from the added burden of playing chemical roulette with every bite.
What’s so maddening is that these aren’t even necessary. The additives don’t make food taste better or safer; they make it easier and cheaper to produce. The fact that natural, demonstrated alternatives exist should make the choice obvious. Yet in the U.S., companies opt for the synthetic shortcut every time, and they get away with it because no one’s holding them accountable. And that, right there, is the rub. It’s not just about the chemicals themselves; it’s about what it says when a society prioritizes corporate convenience over public health. In a world full of better options, why choose to poison your plate?
Seed oils. Chemically extracted, deodorized, and repackaged as the miracle of modern food science. They’re in everything: your chips, your bread, your “healthy” snacks. And yet, despite all the flashy marketing, there’s no scientific consensus on the long-term effects of consuming these oils, which started their careers as industrial lubricants before sneaking onto your plate. They’re cheap to make, easy to scale, and incredibly lucrative—so naturally, companies are hell-bent on cramming them into as much of our food as possible, whether we like it or not.
It’s margarine all over again. Remember margarine? The great 20th-century con that convinced millions of people to swap out butter—real, natural, time-tested butter—for a weird, factory-produced oil masquerading as health food. Margarine was everywhere. It was cheap, easy, and profitable, just like seed oils today. But then the truth came out: margarine wasn’t the savior of heart health; it was a disaster, loaded with trans fats that did more harm than good. Eventually, the public wised up. Margarine fell out of favor, and the food industry moved on to its next great hustle: seed oils.
Restaurants love seed oils, too. They’re cheap, stable, and versatile. Never mind that they’re not what anyone actually wants in their food. They’re what we get—a filler ingredient sneaked into your fries, your salad dressings, your pastries. Butter? Olive oil? Too expensive. Too much work. Why bother with something that tastes better, cooks better, and has centuries of proven safety when you can use the food-grade equivalent of WD-40?
It’s not just frustrating—it’s insulting. This isn’t about making food better or healthier; it’s about making it cheaper and more profitable. And the worst part? Most of the time, we don’t even know what’s being put in our food. There’s no transparency, no accountability, just a shrug and a slick ad campaign to convince us it’s all fine. Meanwhile, in other parts of the world, seed oils and the chemicals saturating American food are treated with the caution they deserve. Here? They’re part of the menu.
The real tragedy is that it doesn’t have to be this way. Food should be simple. It should be honest. But in America, simplicity gets shoved aside in favor of shortcuts and science experiments. And we, the eaters, are left to deal with the consequences—whether it’s margarine, seed oils, or the next big lie the food industry cooks up.