Healthy food has a habit of turning up apologetically. Muted colours, a paragraph about gut flora, the general air of something prescribed. iLiyo opens with "so delicious you'll forget it's good for you" and gets the nutrition out of the way as an afterthought you'll notice later.

It can afford the confidence. Grass-fed milk from Greek farms, Greek cream, strained three times through cloth until it's thick enough that no thickener is needed. Three ingredients, fifteen grams of protein, live cultures.

It needs the confidence too, because one of the shelves it's launching onto is in China. The biggest sellers trading on the Greek name there are ambient — shelf-stable cartons that have to be sterilised to survive at room temperature, which kills the live cultures on the way. Same word on the front, a different product inside, and a young urban buyer who reads labels closely and has no reason yet to have heard of iLiyo.

So the brand line is Ridiculously Greek, and everything we made had to earn the adverb.

The category's default is subtraction. No added sugar, no gums, no stabilisers, no fillers. It's the easiest pack in the world to write and it quietly works against you, because reading "no thickeners" means picturing thickeners first, and anything defined by what's been taken out reads as the diminished version of the real thing.

So we moved the negatives next door. iLiyo's own voice stays affirmative throughout — grass-fed milk, strained three times, live probiotic cultures — while the shortcuts, the gums, the protein that comes from additives rather than dairy all live in the "others" column of a comparison. True, useful, and none of it in iLiyo's mouth.

The toppers do something similar structurally. Raw wildflower honey, slow-cooked blueberry, chunky strawberry, single-source Canadian maple, all of it kept outside the tub. Flavoured yoghurt is usually where clean labels go to die, all sugar and concentrate and stabiliser in the same pot. Keeping them separate protects the three ingredients and hands the brand a flavour language and an easy route to seasonal drops.

The range is named for occasions. Family Tub and Daily Portion, each in The Original and 0% Fat, with the lighter one given equal billing — which matters for a brand whose whole argument is that you shouldn't have to choose. Even there the copy holds its nerve: still strained three times, still made the Greek way, just lighter on the numbers.

The feeling we kept coming back to was summer. Every Greek food brand reaches for the taverna blue-and-white; we went after the sensation instead — early heat, hard light, the first thing you eat on a day with nothing planned. That pushed the palette away from wellness neutrals and towards something with heat in it, and it's why the range looks like lifestyle. Yoghurt eaten on a balcony, not measured into a bowl.

The type is drawn rather than licensed, which for a brand whose whole argument is that it doesn't take shortcuts felt like the only consistent answer. It sits with an icon system built to carry the process — the milk, the straining, the cultures — so the story survives on a 150g label where there's no room for sentences.

The Club Pack is built to travel, which is where the export shelf gets its answer: the identity has to hold from across an aisle, to someone who has never seen it before.

The landing page picks up what a 150g tub can't hold — where the milk comes from, what straining three times through cloth actually means, the questions people ask before they trust a brand they've never bought.

The rest doesn't photograph. Print files, dielines, back labels, the guidelines nobody opens until they need them. It's the half that decides whether any of this still looks like itself in eighteen months.

Most of the chilled aisle is apologising for something. iLiyo prints three ingredients and leaves it at that.

iLiyo — identity, packaging, technical production and web. See the full project.