As a family, we began cutting ultra-processed foods (UPFs) out of our diets just over a year ago. It began, as many things now do, with our 16-month-old daughter. As we approached weaning, I became determined to feed her “real food”. However, in cutting out UPFs, there was an unexpected twist – not to our diets, but our family dynamic.
My fiancé, Brett, had always been the cook in our relationship, yet I now find myself spending hours each week batch cooking, baking bread, and experimenting in the kitchen.
Growing up, my dad was the cook in our household. He was a professional chef before I was born, which was lucky, given my mum’s relationship with cooking is complicated at best. In many ways, this rather unconventional set-up back in the 90s meant I never envisioned myself in the kitchen as an adult. So when I met Brett, it was a relief to discover he actually enjoyed it.
New FeatureIn ShortQuick Stories. Same trusted journalism.
We were in our early twenties when we got together, and our diets were made up of UPFs. Breakfast bars on the go, meal-deal lunches and weekends filled with takeaways and ready meals – he always handled dinner, which would usually be some sort of curry or pasta dish.
Neither of us gave any thought to our UPF consumption. Brett has always refused to use jarred sauces, but that was the extent of our knowledge of what might be “bad”.
‘I was deep in the world of low-fat UPFs’
By the time our daughter was born in October 2024, we were both approaching 30 and our diets looked slightly different. Our weekends were no longer fuelled by cider and pizza, but UPFs had still crept into my diet under the guise of calorie control.
In a bid to lose weight, I was deep in the world of low-fat yoghurts, bagel thins, 99-calorie snacks and one-calorie cooking sprays. It didn’t even cross my mind that these were UPFs. Brett still cooked our meals, but I dictated the swaps in our supermarket basket.
As the time to wean our daughter crept near, we regularly discussed the importance of family mealtimes. It was around this time – or so it seemed – that the anti-UPF movement began to take hold. It felt like I was bombarded with information about how bad they were for our health.
A June 2025 study published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine found that in the UK, UPFs – which account, on average, for 53 per cent of calorie intake – could be linked to 14 per cent of early deaths. Research also found they can be linked to more than 30 different health problems, including heart disease, cancer and diabetes.
Most recently, researchers from Harvard, the University of Michigan, and Duke University found worrying parallels between the production processes of UPFs and cigarettes. It’s no surprise that over a third of Brits want them banned. And the more I read, the more aware I became of just how many UPFs were lingering in our cupboards. I’ll admit, I’m not immune to a wellness trend, but this felt bigger.
This was about feeding my daughter in a way that would support her growth and development. Determined to all eat together, we knew we’d have to make some changes. For example, NHS guidelines recommend full-fat dairy until the age of two – so it was goodbye to my low-fat alternatives. We also stopped using shop-bought stock due to the salt levels.
‘I became fixated on ingredient lists’
As I was still on maternity leave, cooking her meals naturally fell to me. It was gradual at first – one meal a day, then two, then three, then her snacks as well. I’d often find myself frantically texting my dad or Brett for instructions on what to do.
Soon, I became fixated on ingredient lists too. There were obvious culprits, but I was surprised to find the likes of my go-to bread came with a side of E numbers. So, while my daughter napped, I began testing out homemade versions. Soon, I wasn’t just cooking for her – I was batch-cooking for all of us, baking bread and filling the freezer.
There were some disasters, but there were plenty of wins. My beetroot brownies are a hit with family and friends – much to everyone’s surprise – and the night before our daughter’s first birthday, we stayed up until 11pm baking her a four-tiered chocolate cake. It was visually questionable and far too sickly, but that’s part of the joy.
Somewhere along the lines, I realised two things. First, I enjoyed it. Second, the kitchen was no longer Brett’s domain. It was mine.
While on the surface, eliminating UPFs is about cooking from scratch, there’s a lot more domestic labour than I anticipated. It’s every meal, my daughter’s favourite oat bars, and homemade Caesar dressing – all of which need prepping. As well as the shopping and tidying up.
Brett still cooks – he’s firmly in charge of steak night – but the bulk of the planning, prep and batch cooking sits with me. Most Sundays, you’ll find me elbow-deep in a batch of sausage rolls or fish cakes for the freezer, with either cake or bread cooling on the side.
On paper, it makes sense. I’m a full-time mum with a side gig as a freelance writer. He’s at work all week and misses her, so of course I want them to have that time together at the weekend. But I’m also aware of how easily a “health decision” became a redistribution of labour within our marriage.
We regularly joke that I’ve become a tradwife – particularly when Brett rocks up to work with homemade bread and cake in his lunchbox. And no, I do not put it together for him. Most of the time, I find it genuinely funny. I know he doesn’t take me for granted, and he pulls his weight where he can.
However, there have been moments where the extra load has tipped me over the edge. There have been plenty of squabbles – especially when he’s late home for dinner, or he’s not hungry because he’s had a “late lunch”.
I don’t resent him for it, though. Although my own mum never cooked, I always knew I would have to in some capacity – I just took it one step further. However, I do worry about the message it sends to my daughter. I don’t want her growing up to think the kitchen is where women belong, but I know it’s up to us to shape the narrative.
For now, I write around nap time and childcare. While I do plan to take on more writing this year, I will still be at home so cooking will remain my job. I do hope to retire when our family is grown, though.
Thankfully, our bank accounts haven’t taken the big hit that is often associated with “healthy” eating. If anything, by ditching UPFs, I’m forced to make a meal plan. We spend on average £85 a week on food as a family of three. We used to easily spend over £100 just the two of us. While we’ve always been reserved in the week, the weekends would put a dent in our wallets.
However, we have invested in extra cooking equipment – baking pans, electric whisks and blenders – which has set us back a few hundred pounds.
Ditching UPFs has certainly been a learning curve. I have a much better relationship with food and understand how it can fuel my body. Physically, I feel better than I have in years. Despite a long history of calorie counting, I’ve lost weight without trying to, my skin is clearer, and I have more energy.
Our meals aren’t wildly different either. We still eat pizza, but we make the dough as a family. We still have treats, just homemade ones. Most of the time, I try to keep things simple with classics such as chilli, spaghetti bolognese and curry. Burrito night is a firm favourite in our house, especially now I’ve nailed homemade wraps.
In many ways, the benefits feel worth it. However, I’m aware it’s only possible because I’m at home full-time. I’m also aware our daughter will one day discover sweets, crisps, and chicken nuggets. Right now, it works and the habits we’ve created feel sustainable, so we’ll never go back to relying on UPFs. However, I do think it is time for brands and supermarkets to step up and offer more UPF-free alternatives.
Sometimes, I think about my mum. She hates cooking, so my dad does it for her. Growing up, that felt liberating. I never imagined I’d be the one in the kitchen. Yet, here I am. And while I’m proud to say we’re now a UPF-free household, I’m more aware than ever that eating this way requires more than just a change in shopping habits.