This chapter argues that ultra-processed foods (UPFs) can be addictive and that the food industry, much like Big Tobacco, has profited from this by design. The author defines addiction as a repetitive, hard-to-quit behavior and identifies three factors that determine a substance’s addictive potential. First is “supernormal stimulation,” where a substance provides an exaggerated version of a natural pleasure. UPFs achieve this with high concentrations of sugar and flavor-enhancing additives that create a more intense dopamine spike than natural foods. Second is a rapid “neurotransmitter spike”; by removing the natural food matrix of protein and fiber, UPFs are absorbed extremely quickly, delivering a fast, potent “high” to the brain’s reward centers. Third is “availability,” and UPFs are cheaper, more accessible, and more heavily marketed than any other addictive substance.

The author draws a direct historical line from the tobacco industry to the food industry. In 1985, R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company bought food giant Nabisco; that same year, Philip Morris bought General Foods and then added Kraft in 1988. These tobacco companies applied their time-tested “playbook” for selling addictive products, including marketing heavily to children with cartoon mascots to create lifelong customers and “capturing science” by funding biased research to downplay the harms of their products.

Using the Yale Food Addiction Scale, studies estimate that 14% of adults and 12% of children suffer from clinical food addiction, with higher rates among those with obesity. The most addictive foods are typically UPFs that combine refined carbohydrates and fats, such as pizza, chocolate, chips, and ice cream. In contrast, unprocessed foods like vegetables and salmon have very low addictive potential.

The recommended treatment for food addiction is not moderation but abstinence from the specific foods that trigger the addictive behavior—namely, UPFs. The author critiques the notion that people should simply “eat less,” comparing it to telling an alcoholic to “drink less.” Instead, overcoming food addiction requires recognizing the problem, avoiding trigger foods, changing one’s environment to reduce cues, and seeking support.

The chapter explores hedonic hunger—the drive to eat for pleasure or emotional comfort rather than for metabolic need. The author introduces this concept through Roxane Gay’s memoir Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body, in which she connects her weight gain to childhood trauma, framing her overeating as a response to deep-seated emotional pain, not a lack of willpower. Emotional eating is a coping mechanism for negative feelings like stress, sadness, and boredom, or a way to enhance positive feelings during celebrations.

The brain’s reward system releases dopamine when we eat, and this effect is amplified by insulin. “Comfort foods,” which are almost always UPFs, are perfectly engineered to provide a quick and powerful dopamine hit because of their high refined-carbohydrate content, low satiety, and hyper-palatable texture. This self-medication offers temporary relief but often leads to a cycle of overeating, guilt, and further emotional eating.

Closely related to emotional eating is mindless or distracted eating—consuming food while watching TV, driving, or working, without paying attention to hunger or fullness cues. The author notes that satiety requires conscious attention and memory; if we don’t remember eating, we are likely to feel hungry again sooner.

As a solution, the author advocates for mindfulness-based practices. Mindful eating involves being aware of what, how, and why one is eating, without judgment. A key tool is the Japanese mantra hara hachi bu—“Eat until you are 80 percent full” (142). Dan Buettner, author of The Blue Zones: Secrets for Living Longer, observed the older citizens of Okinawa reciting this mantra before each meal. A review of 15 studies involving 560 people found that mindful eating produced an average weight loss of 4.2 kg (9.3 pounds), increasing to 9.2 kg (20 pounds) at six-month follow-up. Additional strategies include learning to calm the vagus nerve through relaxation techniques like deep breathing, meditation, and spending time in nature to manage the stress that often triggers emotional eating. The chapter concludes by noting that major life changes, such as going to college, marriage, or menopause, can be particularly stressful and heighten the risk of emotional eating.

Fung presents three case studies of individuals who overcame chronic health issues and food addiction by applying the principles discussed in the book.

Gloria had been addicted to food for most of her life. Intermittent fasting helped her break the cycle of constant eating. By practicing time-restricted eating and managing her insulin levels, she successfully lost weight during perimenopause and resolved her joint pain.

Anastasia was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and, despite following her doctor’s advice to eat a vegan diet of six small meals a day, her weight and insulin dependence continued to increase. Realizing she was a stress-eater, she switched to a diet of natural, unprocessed foods and began fasting. Within a month, she was able to stop taking insulin and most of the other medications, and she ultimately lost over 150 pounds.

Lee was addicted to refined carbohydrates from vending-machine snacks and struggled with yo-yo dieting for decades. By starting with short fasts and eliminating snacks and processed carbs, she broke her addiction. She lost a total of 160 pounds and reversed her type 2 diabetes and high blood pressure, and also reduced her migraines, brain fog, allergies, skin problems, and joint pain. Though she has occasional relapses during stressful times, she uses mindfulness to recognize the issue and recommit to her health. At age 70, she now works as a lifestyle coach.