44.0°,
Mostly Cloudy Behind enemy lines in the supermarket wars
(Page 2 of 3)
In carefully constructed prose, Moss reveals the synergy between Philip Morris and its food-industry acquisitions, which, in addition to Kraft/Oscar Mayer, included General Foods in 1985. Philip Morris merged Kraft and General Foods in 1989, calling it Kraft General Foods, before dropping General Foods from the name in 1995. Kraft was spun off as an independent company in 2007.
For two decades, Philip Morris, now known as the Altria Group, not only provided its processed-food satellites with cash for product development, but also marketing expertise that included strategic product placement aimed at low-income Americans living in inner cities, where Philip Morris had marketed its cigarette lines for decades, according to Moss.
Philip Morris executives saw the potential to market low-cost –– and mightily unwholesome –– processed foods at the small convenience shops that line the streets of poverty-stricken urban neighborhoods, and gave their marketing intel to their Kraft General Foods counterparts, Moss writes.
“Salt, Sugar, Fat” is full of such horror stories. The section on Lunchables, though, really got to me.
Early on in elementary school, my kids regaled my wife and me with cafeteria stories about their peers feasting on Lunchables. Naturally, they wanted them too.
My wife and I knew little about Lunchables, but we were suspicious of all processed foods. For months we resisted our children’s insistent, albeit polite, requests. Finally we gave in, purchasing a handful of Lunchables. Our kids were happy. We were not.
We’ve always prided ourselves in serving healthy food to our kids. Each week we load up on organic fruits and vegetables. We eat only whole-wheat bread, pizza and bagels, and red meat is virtually banned from our house. Our guts told us that Lunchables were bad news.
Our kids took them to school for half a week before we pulled the plug. We explained that Lunchables were junk food. Our kids would have to return to homemade lunches, which they were OK with. Lunchables, it turned out, weren’t even especially filling.
For two decades, Philip Morris, now known as the Altria Group, not only provided its processed-food satellites with cash for product development, but also marketing expertise that included strategic product placement aimed at low-income Americans living in inner cities, where Philip Morris had marketed its cigarette lines for decades, according to Moss.
Philip Morris executives saw the potential to market low-cost –– and mightily unwholesome –– processed foods at the small convenience shops that line the streets of poverty-stricken urban neighborhoods, and gave their marketing intel to their Kraft General Foods counterparts, Moss writes.
“Salt, Sugar, Fat” is full of such horror stories. The section on Lunchables, though, really got to me.
Early on in elementary school, my kids regaled my wife and me with cafeteria stories about their peers feasting on Lunchables. Naturally, they wanted them too.
My wife and I knew little about Lunchables, but we were suspicious of all processed foods. For months we resisted our children’s insistent, albeit polite, requests. Finally we gave in, purchasing a handful of Lunchables. Our kids were happy. We were not.
We’ve always prided ourselves in serving healthy food to our kids. Each week we load up on organic fruits and vegetables. We eat only whole-wheat bread, pizza and bagels, and red meat is virtually banned from our house. Our guts told us that Lunchables were bad news.
Our kids took them to school for half a week before we pulled the plug. We explained that Lunchables were junk food. Our kids would have to return to homemade lunches, which they were OK with. Lunchables, it turned out, weren’t even especially filling.
Page 2 / 3
Report an inappropriate comment
Comments