The Oreo, obesity and us - a report fo Chicago Tribune, part 2

The oreo, obesity and us




For every fad, another cookie


How science and diet crazes confuse consumers, reshape recipes and fail, ultimately, to reform eating habits.




By Delroy Alexander, Jeremy Manier and Patricia Callahan
Tribune staff reporters
Published August 23, 2005





CHAPTER 1




A goopy white mess smeared the inside of the Double Stuf Oreo package. The cookies creamy center had oozed out, leaving a tumble of dark chocolate wafers.





In the Kraft Foods laboratory where cookies get the snack-world equivalent of an automobile crash test, this experimental Oreo was totaled. The flop last year delayed efforts to purge the cookie of trans fat, yet another in a stream of dietary villains.
The Oreo is but one example of a foodmaker s attempts to reinvent its fattening fare. Food fads and conflicting research force Northfield-based Kraft and other foodmakers to shift gears from one new product to another, in an endless quest to develop the next big thing out of the same old things: sugar, flour and fat.


Often, the result leaves consumers confused, struggling to make sense of a plethora of new creations and to decode small type on colorful packages. "Not for weight control," warns a box of sugar-free Oreos that also is labeled "Sensible Snacking."
For a fickle public, each variation offers a fleeting hope that a junk food can deliver indulgence without consequences. Watch CLTV video reports on America s obesity crisis.
Kraft sees the issue as a matter of giving consumers a choice. The company provides a product line "ranging from better-for-you options like Oreo 100 Calorie Packs to more indulgent treats like the chocolate-covered Oreo," David S. Johnson, Kraft s North America chief, said in a written statement.





Even as foodmakers trumpet healthier products, behind the scenes their trade groups have attempted to water down federal dietary guidelines governing a troublesome ingredient, trans fat.
Oreo s makers added trans fat a decade ago, in a race to address worries that lard in the cookie could lead to heart problems. Later, research showed that trans fat was even worse for the heart than lard.


The low-carb Oreo also didn t last, but that had more to do with a fad-driven marketplace than with science. When Kraft ditched the low-carb Oreo, it took the same cookie and put it in a new box touting a hotter diet trend.
And with that, the Oreo CarbWell last month became the Sugar Free SnackWell s Oreo.





CHAPTER 2: Bad omen for the Oreo




Scientists reverse themselves on the dangers of a would-be nutrition solution, trans fat, then struggle to make the industry accept the bad news.





Researcher Martijn Katan wove his bicycle through gridlocked evening traffic on his way to Ivar s Salmon House in Seattle. It was August 1990, and Katan was late for a dinner meeting with a small group of food industry scientists, including a researcher from Kraft.


They had reason to be worried.


In his bag was a sneak peek at the results of a new study on 59 Dutch college students, soon to be published in the prestigious New England Journal of Medicine. It was the first hard data suggesting that the trans fat found in a growing variety of foods was far more dangerous than scientists had believed.
At the time, many companies were increasing their use of partially hydrogenated vegetable oils--the chief source of trans fat--in response to widely publicized concerns that lard and tropical oils boost the risk of heart attacks. Lard and tropical oils are high in saturated fat, which seemed far more of a concern than trans fat.


One crusader had placed full-page ads in newspapers around the country, calling the use of tropical oils and lard "THE POISONING OF AMERICA!" He singled out Oreo-maker Nabisco as a laggard in reformulating products.




Trans fat, which margarine companies had relied on for decades, seemed a safe alternative. The ingredient was making its way into pastries, bread, crackers, fried foods, even cookies. The last thing companies wanted to hear was that trans fat was bad for you too.
Nabisco, which Kraft didn t control until 2000, had spent years devising an Oreo recipe that replaced lard with trans fat.
As the food scientists pored over Katan s study, the table at Ivar s fell silent. The research showed that people who ate lots of trans fat had serious cholesterol problems, even worse than the effects from other fats.
"My distinct feeling was that they were upset by the data I was showing them," said Katan, a professor of nutrition at the Wageningen Center for Food Sciences in the Netherlands. "They had not expected it to be this clear-cut and damaging."





The food industry fought the implications of Katan s results for most of the next decade. Kraft and Nabisco joined a group of companies that poured more than $1 million into studies that might yield more favorable conclusions.
They had reasons beyond self-interest to be skeptical of Katan s findings. Just a few years earlier, the National Academy of Sciences had found that trans fat posed no special risk.
But the researcher the food industry turned to, Joseph Judd, confirmed Katan s study.
"They were in shock," said Judd, a researcher at the U.S. Department of Agriculture at the time. "This was going to be hundreds of millions of dollars worth of impact."





More than a decade after Katan sounded an alarm, the National Academy of Sciences reversed course and in 2002 concluded that no amount of trans fat is healthy. But the academy decided people could not eliminate it from their diets because meat and dairy products naturally contain small amounts.


That left a central question unanswered: How much trans fat is too much?



Setting a trans fat limit fell to a committee of prominent scientists summoned by the government to assess the national diet. In May 2004, they agreed to a limit so small it alarmed food companies. Just three regular Oreos would put a consumer slightly over the daily cap.
But at least 10 food trade groups, including some Kraft belonged to, opposed the trans fat limits in filings with the federal government.


Earlier this year, when the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services issued new dietary guidelines, the recommended trans fat limits were nowhere to be seen.




CHAPTER 3: Profiting from confusion




Consumers stampede from one health fad to the next, enabling companies to reap big money on new products even if they only appear to be healthier.




The Oreo section of the grocery store traces a road map of America s helter-skelter approach to nutrition. In an era of fleeting health fads and niche marketing, there has been an Oreo product for just about every new trend, whether low-fat, low-carb, low-sugar or low-calorie.


The Oreo now comes in 40 different flavors, colors and package sizes--from Mini Oreo Go-Paks that fit in a car cup holder to the Double Stuf Oreo Peanut Butter Creme. The cookie s many variations are emblematic of a food industry that has sought to placate an overweight nation bombarded with conflicting information of what makes a healthy diet.
Beth Aversa, a Chicago mother of two young children, is one of those consumers who has tried different fad diets but remains confused about the best way to stay fit.





When it comes to her kids diets, though, Aversa often finds it easier to yield to their appetites for sweets. She uses Oreos as an afternoon snack that saves time and makes them happy.


"I try to let them eat properly," she said as her kids munched Oreos at their home. "But sometimes we eat eggs for dinner and Oreos for breakfast."
Consumers pursuit of a better diet has meant more sales for food companies as they have turned fears about fats and other dietary villains into a source of profits.


Attempts to sell healthier-sounding cookie spin-offs have roots in the delirium over a different brand Nabisco launched in 1992.
SnackWell s, a line of low-fat snacks, were so popular in the early 90s that ravenous consumers emptied entire stores of the cookies. In 1995, the brand s revenues hit $500 million, making it one of the most successful product launches in the history of the food industry.





Steven Sherman, an occupational health and safety consultant in upstate New York, would eat an entire box of SnackWell s Devil s Food Cookie Cakes in a sitting. "You could sock them away in front of the TV," recalled Sherman, who has since kicked the habit.


Eager to expand its low-fat franchise, Nabisco launched an initiative code-named "Project Fatboyz." The mission was to introduce low-fat versions of the Oreo and five other Nabisco brands.
The company in 1994 trumpeted the Reduced Fat Oreo as a "healthy snacking alternative." A TV commercial showed animated Oreos working out in an aerobics class. The tagline: "Less fat, loads of taste."



Many consumers made the logical leap that low fat meant diet. But weight gain stems from consuming too many calories, regardless of fat content. And Nabisco, like many food companies, often made fat-free and low-fat products taste better by making them sweeter. This added calories.





Americans overindulged in low-fat treats, something a former Nabisco research chief called "the SnackWell s Syndrome."
SnackWell s also taught the industry how far a brand could fall. The low-fat craze didn t last. Once consumers realized these low-fat treats weren t helping them shave pounds, SnackWell s sales plummeted.



When Americans abandon one health fad, it is not long before they stampede to another. As the nation has grappled with the obesity crisis in recent years, many consumers experimented with low-carb diets made popular by Dr. Robert Atkins.
Riding the trend, Kraft, which took control of Nabisco five years ago, last fall launched the Oreo CarbWell, which appeared healthier.


But was it? One Oreo CarbWell had 50 calories, while a regular Oreo has 53. A fine-print footnote on the box reminded consumers, "Be sure to count calories, too."
Engineered with a sugar substitute called maltitol, the Oreo CarbWell also came with a warning: "Excess consumption may have a laxative effect."
The cookie had lousy timing. Many Americans already were ditching low-carb diets.




In July, Atkins Nutritionals Inc. filed for bankruptcy protection. That same month Kraft renamed its CarbWell Oreo the Sugar Free SnackWell s Oreo. A new disclaimer popped up on the box: "Not for weight control."
The one version of the cookie geared to address worries about overeating doesn t look like an Oreo at all.
A year ago, Kraft launched Oreo 100 Calorie Packs, small bags of wafers called Thin Crisps that contain fewer calories than two traditional Oreos.


To keep the calories down, the company ditched the familiar white filling. The Thin Crisps also are stripped of the Oreo imprint and are thinner than most crackers. They re not even round.