Wearables count. Pharmacies file. DNA reports sit in drawers. We build the engine that turns all of it into the most ordinary decision of your day — dinner.
ThymeCreek started with a grocery cart. One of us — statin prescription in pocket, sleep score on a watch, DNA report in a drawer — watched a bag of grapefruit go into the basket and realized: every system in our lives knew this was a bad idea, and none of them said a word.
The tracker counted. The pharmacy filed. The cart just totaled. So we built the thing that says the word — an engine that reads the signals you already generate and turns them into dinner, checked four ways before checkout.
"We left jobs in health data to build the kitchen we couldn't buy."
The engine reads USDA-grade food data, your signals, and the clinical literature on drug–food interactions. If a claim can't be traced, it doesn't get made.
Four checks stand between a plan and a purchase — meds, allergens, nutrition, budget. Grapefruit never meets your statin.
GDPR. Explicit consent. Encrypted at rest and in transit. Not to insurers, not to advertisers, not to anyone.
No streaks, no guilt, no confetti. We measure success in problems you didn't have.
We don't do headshot walls. Four disciplines share one counter — and the crew is small enough that your email reaches all of them.
Technique, pairing, seasonality — the chef half of the chef-and-biochemist brain.
Drug–food interactions, allergens, and the four walls every cart must pass.
Six live data streams, one decision engine, zero drama at checkout.
Quiet software takes loud craft. Every pixel argues for restraint.
The London beta is open. Bring your kitchen — and your data.