When I was little, my parents used to travel a lot and would leave my sisters and me with my grandmother. She was a cheerful, good-humored Italian woman who made the most delicious lasagna. That dish had a mysterious power to soften the ache of missing our parents. It was comfort on a plate—a kind of love that almost made us forget that Mom and Dad weren’t there. Food has that power: it comforts us. It’s common, when we’re far from home, to prepare a typical dish as a way of feeling closer. Food is not only our daily fuel; it’s also a powerful tool of connection and belonging.
A few weeks ago, I attended the Food Forum in Stockholm to follow the launch of the new edition of the EAT-Lancet report, one of the world’s most important documents on food and the environment, produced by 70 scientists from 35 countries. There, it became clear how food can also be a tool for caring for the planet. Unfortunately, the opposite has been happening. According to the EAT-Lancet, food systems are the single largest cause of planetary boundary transgressions, accounting for one-third of greenhouse gas emissions, as well as a major driver of biodiversity loss, land-use change and freshwater over-use. This means that if we start to look more carefully—and systemically—at what’s on our plates, we could address some of humanity’s greatest challenges.
The report proposes the Planetary Health Diet, a guide for governments and individuals toward food systems that are healthier, fairer, and more sustainable. It is not a rigid, one-size-fits-all prescription, but rather a flexible framework meant to be adapted to the customs, cultures, and ecosystems of each region. The Planetary Health Diet shows that by increasing our consumption of plant-based foods—such as fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and legumes—and reducing red meat and ultra-processed foods, we can both improve human health and help regenerate ecosystems. This dietary transition is, in many ways, a collective survival strategy.
In Brazil, we’re not starting from scratch. Our Brazilian Dietary Guidelines (Guia Alimentar para a População Brasileira), published by the Ministry of Health in 2014, are globally recognized as among the most complete and innovative in the world. They argue that healthy eating goes far beyond nutrients: it encompasses culture, time, sociability, and sustainability. The guidelines recommend prioritizing fresh and minimally processed foods, valuing home-cooked meals, respecting nature’s rhythms, and being skeptical of the brightly colored packages that try to replace real food. When practiced collectively, these individual choices have enormous transformative potential. We call them microrrevolutions.
There are, however, significant barriers to transforming our food systems, and perhaps the most powerful of them all is ultra-processed food. Snacks, cookies, instant meals—substances built from new molecules—engineered to drive overconsumption and profit. Just as my grandmother’s lasagna comforted me for years, microwave-ready foods filled with addictive additives can also feel comforting. But they are part of a trap. Scientific evidence has grown rapidly in recent years, linking their consumption to higher risks of obesity, type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular diseases, liver disorders, and inflammatory bowel conditions such as Crohn’s disease. Emerging research also points to associations with mental health problems, including depression and even dementia. These products, engineered for convenience and profit rather than nourishment, disrupt our metabolism, microbiome, and even our sense of satiety, making it harder for both our bodies and our minds to thrive.
Dr. Carlos Monteiro, a nutrition researcher at the University of São Paulo (USP), often emphasizes the need for public policies that protect traditional dietary patterns. In the United States and the United Kingdom, around 60 percent of adults’ caloric intake already comes from these pseudo-foods and now the industry’s sights are set on countries like mine. Governments must step in to protect our grandmothers’ lasagnas, and the traditional dishes that define who we are.
In his book Ultra-Processed People, Oxford-trained physician and infectious disease specialist Chris van Tulleken tells the story of a multinational ultra-processed food company that “invaded” the Brazilian Amazon. The company built a floating supermarket that traveled up rivers to reach remote communities. After the boat’s visit, locals became hooked on those salty snacks, rates of obesity and type 2 diabetes soared, and small merchants who once sold local food were forced to switch to industrial products. This is the kind of threat we’re up against. It’s not only a health issue. It’s also about power: a handful of corporations shaping diets worldwide at the expense of local cultures and ecosystems.
Nobody is imposing new eating rules or taking the pleasure out of food. It’s about adaptation. The Planetary Health Diet embraces diversity and provides a pathway to feed, in a healthy, sustainable, and just way, a global population that is expected to reach 10 billion people by 2050. I’m sure that if my grandmother were still alive, she’d be delighted to taste the new vegetarian version of her famous lasagna, made with eggplant and walnuts. After all, the recipe for a better world might begin in our own kitchens.
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Photo courtesy of José Reynaldo da Fonseca, Unsplash
