Glucose syrup carries a legacy that stretches back to the early days of food processing and industry. Its story starts during the 19th century, when chemists like Gottlieb Kirchhoff in Russia first broke down starches using acid hydrolysis, delivering a new, sweet liquid that quickly found its place in European confectionery. Factories began scaling up production as demand grew for sweeteners that cost less than honey or cane sugar. By the early 20th century, the United States had taken notice, pushing innovation further with the adoption of enzymatic processes. This shift not only improved yield but changed the texture and clarity of the syrup, making it a staple in everything from ice cream to canned fruits. Anyone who grew up eating commercial candy or soft drinks has tasted this legacy, often without realizing it.
Glucose syrup has a reputation for versatility. Thick, clear, and sticky, it packs a recognizable sweetness. People use it widely in food manufacturing, not just for its sugar content, but because it keeps products soft, helps candies hold their shape, and retains moisture in baked goods. Not everything labeled as "glucose syrup" is created equal: some syrups draw their main starches from corn, while others use wheat, potatoes, or rice. This matters for people with allergies or dietary restrictions, and also affects the final taste and handling. The food industry's trust in glucose syrup has much to do with its consistency; large producers rely on it to standardize flavor and shelf life, especially in products that sit out for weeks at a time.
Looking at glucose syrup at the chemical level, it is a blend of different carbohydrate molecules—mainly glucose, but often mixed with maltose and oligosaccharides. Dextrose equivalent (DE) tells the story of how broken down the starch has become: higher DE means a sweeter, thinner syrup, while lower DE syrups behave more like thick honey. Viscosity stands out among its physical traits; if you've ever poured it out of a bottle, you'll remember how stubbornly it clings to the sides. Its clear appearance, mild aroma, and a slightly less intense sweetness than cane sugar makes it useful for recipes that don’t want overpowering notes. Temperature impacts how runny or thick it gets, and its humectant capacity—not just a technical term, but an everyday helper—locks in moisture in foods like marshmallows and chewable vitamins.
Regulatory standards keep every batch of glucose syrup in check. Manufacturers publish the range for DE, usually between 20 to 98 for different uses, along with water content (often around 20%) and pH, which hovers around 4 to 6.5. This matters especially for food safety, as acidity helps control spoilage. Product labels need to declare the source—this protects people from undeclared allergens, especially gluten if wheat is involved. Some countries enforce labeling for genetically modified organism content, directly linked to corn-based syrups. Standard international codes help buyers and inspectors cross borders with confidence that what’s inside matches what’s advertised. My years in food processing taught me that honest, thorough labeling heads off a lot of potential headaches, both for producers and for people with sensitive health conditions.
The backbone of most glucose syrup production involves breaking down starches into simpler sugars. It starts with slurrying ground-up corn, wheat, or potatoes in water, and then adding acid or enzymes to slice apart the long starch molecules. The liquid becomes a pale, cloudy mixture that’s refined through filtration and treatment to snatch out proteins, fibers, and other leftovers. After concentration by evaporation, the syrup thickens into the slick, pourable product seen on factory lines. Big players in the market have industrial fermenters and purification systems running day and night, while smaller operations usually outsource certain steps, making use of local starch crops where possible. The technical beauty of this process comes in its adjustability—change the enzyme mix or processing time, and you tweak the DE to match the needs of different candies or syrups.
Processing glucose syrup depends heavily on the magic of hydrolysis: water, heat, and acid or enzymes snip apart the starch’s molecular chains. Producers can steer product characteristics by tweaking the ratio of enzymes like alpha-amylase and glucoamylase, opening pathways to more glucose-heavy syrups or blends with higher maltose, depending on what the market needs. Chemical modifications, such as partial hydrogenation or cross-linking, create specialty syrups with altered texture or stability. For example, high-maltose syrups hold up better in hard candies, resisting crystallization during storage. Discussions about new enzyme breakthroughs often come up at conferences in the industry, since small tweaks can mean big energy savings or improvements in environmental footprint.
Glucose syrup goes by many aliases around the world. In North American grocery stores, it sometimes shows up as “corn syrup” or “liquid glucose.” In Europe, “glucose-fructose syrup” appears, signaling the addition of natural fruit sugar. Industry insiders toss around terms like “starch syrup” or “confectioner’s glucose,” depending on whether the final product gears up for baking, drinks, or candy. Understanding these synonyms matters for those with allergies or specific ingredient sensitivities, especially because some formulations shift between corn and wheat throughout the year. Distributed globally, glucose syrup’s identity often reflects local farming and economic ties, with each region tailoring the terminology to its dominant crops and food traditions.
Food safety shapes every part of glucose syrup production. Hazard Analysis and Critical Control Point (HACCP) systems draw out potential points for microbial contamination or residue carryover from enzymes and acids. Equipment must be cleaned with exacting care, since lingering proteins or dust can trigger reactions in unsuspecting consumers. Testing protocols check for heavy metals, pesticides, and unexpected microbes. Legislation, like the U.S. Food Safety Modernization Act and EU food safety directives, demands regular audits and quick recall procedures if a batch goes sideways. In the food plants I’ve toured, quality labs run almost non-stop just to keep production rolling without hiccups, saving everyone downstream from wasted hours and product recalls.
Glucose syrup appears in more places than most people guess. In candy kitchens, it acts as the glue that keeps chewy sweets elastic and resistant to dryness. Bakers rely on it for golden crust color and prolonged softness in bread. Ice cream makers depend on its ability to fight ice crystal formation, keeping finished desserts creamy even after weeks in a freezer. Soft drink manufacturers value its cost-effectiveness and blending ease. Beyond foods, glucose syrup finds use in pharmaceuticals as a base for cough syrups and vitamin gummies, and even in cosmetics as a humectant. Over the years, I’ve watched R&D teams test new applications in biodegradable packaging and bioplastics, reflecting both the versatility of carbohydrate chemistry and the hope for more climate-friendly industries.
Companies and chemists look beyond flavor and mouthfeel when investing in glucose syrup development. They hunt for enzyme technologies that use less water or lower temperatures, trimming energy bills. Research groups push ahead on non-GMO and organic sources, catering to shifting consumer demand. There’s ongoing work to extend shelf life naturally, fighting off spoilage without synthetic additives. Some teams experiment with blending syrups from non-traditional sources like tapioca and cassava for different global markets. As consumers become more ingredient-savvy, the pressure mounts to produce cleaner-label products, and researchers often share their surprises—like small changes in starch origin shifting flavor profiles. I’ve seen plenty of promising projects hit a speed bump when facing regulatory approval or scaling challenges, but the trend toward sustainable processing stands firm.
Glucose syrup, mostly a blend of simple sugars, doesn't ignite alarms for acute toxicity at normal consumption rates. Regulatory bodies, including the U.S. FDA and the European Food Safety Authority, have found no strong evidence linking it to dangers at levels common in food. Still, dieticians and doctors keep a close eye on its metabolic impact, especially given rising rates of diabetes and obesity linked to overall sugar intake. Trace residues of processing aids or pesticides have come under scrutiny, but advances in purification have kept these well below legal thresholds. Long-term food safety studies and surveillance have not shown notable links between glucose syrup and direct toxicological risks, though caution and moderation remain guiding principles in nutrition advice.
Glucose syrup’s future looks dynamic, shaped by changing consumer attitudes toward sugar and sustainability. Producers face calls for cleaner labeling, lower carbon footprints, and traceable sourcing, pushing innovation in raw materials and processing methods. Alternative crops like cassava or sorghum could reshape the starch landscape in regions where corn holds less sway. Biotechnological advances hint at new ways to lower energy use and water consumption, appealing from both a cost and an environmental perspective. Collaborations across food, pharma, and packaging businesses open doors to uses nobody imagined just a decade ago. As people learn more about nutrition and climate impact, the industry will need to stay nimble, honest, and ready to respond. Technology won’t solve every problem, but it will keep opening new paths for glucose syrup’s story into the years ahead.
Glucose syrup starts out simple. In most cases, you’re looking at corn as the main source, especially throughout North America. You’ll find companies in Europe using wheat or potatoes more often. The reason for this difference mostly comes down to farming patterns and what crops you’ll see on the local landscape. In Asia, rice sometimes forms the base. No matter the crop, the basic process transforms starches—those long chains of sugar—in everyday grains and root vegetables into something far sweeter and easier to blend into candy, ice cream, or even medicine.
Factories use enzymes and acids to break starch down into smaller parts, creating a syrup that pours easily and can blend right into food. This method wasn’t always so high tech. Centuries ago, cooks broke down starch by cooking it with acids. Chemistry changed the game, and now manufacturers rely on enzymes like alpha-amylase. This enzyme comes from bacteria or molds, which might sound off-putting, but it just gives food makers more control.
People often ask if glucose syrup is just another sugar, or if it’s better or worse than table sugar. From my kitchen to your grocery aisle, glucose syrup packs in calories but little more: hardly any vitamins, minerals, or fiber. Its main job is to help sweeten foods and keep products moist. Companies also use glucose syrup for its ability to keep things smooth, so you’re not chewing grainy bits in sweets and sauces.
It’s not all smooth sailing for consumers. People living with diabetes need to be aware that glucose syrup can send blood sugar levels surging faster than regular table sugar does. Small amounts occasionally likely won’t cause problems for most, but you see glucose syrup showing up in all kinds of processed foods, from ketchup to soda to bread. Years of overconsumption bring real consequences: higher risks of obesity, metabolic syndrome, and tooth decay.
Food labels often hide glucose syrup behind a few different names. You’ll sometimes find it as “corn syrup” in the United States. Each version delivers a similar punch to blood sugar, so no matter what it’s called, it works the same way in your body. The key is staying informed. I check ingredient lists for anything ending in “syrup” or “glucose.” By keeping track of how much of this additive sneaks into your daily diet, staying on the safe side gets a whole lot easier.
Getting curious about what goes into foods is the first step. I’ve noticed that if you stick with whole foods—fruits, vegetables, fresh meats—you skip a lot of the hidden sugars. Cooking at home makes it simple to swap glucose syrup for alternatives like honey, maple syrup, or just less sugar overall. Pushing companies for clearer labeling can make a difference, too. Whenever shoppers ask questions, it puts some pressure on food producers to look for better options and limit unnecessary additives in the first place.
People often use glucose syrup and corn syrup interchangeably. I’ve heard both names used in home kitchens and on grocery store runs. Both products show up in sweets, sodas, and processed foods, so it’s easy to mix them up. But sharing a supermarket shelf doesn’t make them identical.
Glucose syrup describes any liquid sweetener made by breaking down starch. This starch can come from many places—potatoes, wheat, rice, or corn. The result always ends up as a sweet, thick syrup, mostly made up of glucose.
Corn syrup, on the other hand, comes directly and only from corn starch. Every bottle calling itself ‘corn syrup’ in the United States has corn as its source. So every corn syrup is a glucose syrup, but not every glucose syrup uses corn. In Europe, glucose syrup often means wheat or potato instead.
This difference isn’t just about names. Brands sometimes use different starches to avoid import taxes or suit local crops. In America, corn dominates. In parts of Europe, wheat takes the lead. If you bake at home and swap syrup types, texture and taste can shift. Cookies become chewy in one version, more crumbly in another.
For people with allergies or celiac disease, these substitutions can be serious. Wheat-based glucose syrup goes through processing that removes nearly all protein, including gluten, but sensitive individuals often want absolute certainty before trusting a label. In food manufacturing, labeling laws mean companies need to be specific to keep people safe.
Walk into any bakery. Many use glucose syrup to keep pastries glossy and moist. In my time working alongside pastry chefs, corn syrup always appeared in recipes that demanded a gentle sweetness and smooth consistency that didn’t crystallize easily. Confectioners rely on these liquids for fudges, marshmallows, and candies. What matters in the kitchen isn’t just the sweetness, but the thickness and how the syrup plays with other ingredients.
Reading the ingredient list on a soda can or a candy wrapper, you’ll often spot glucose syrup or corn syrup at the top. High-fructose corn syrup, which gets a lot of press, starts out as regular corn syrup, but processing shifts some glucose into fructose, amping up the sweetness. This causes ongoing debates about health, with researchers studying long-term effects on everything from obesity to diabetes.
There’s a lot of misinformation online and confusion in conversation. People worry about what goes into their food, and rightly so. Studies, such as those published by the American Heart Association, point toward high sugary syrup consumption driving up heart risk and extra pounds. Not every household recipe calls for syrup, and reducing reliance on these ingredients can make a difference for families keeping tabs on sugar.
Talking with nutritionists, I’ve learned to look for straightforward labeling, especially for allergies or dietary needs. Swapping a teaspoon of syrup in an occasional treat feels different from hidden syrups in lunchboxes each day. As a parent, I try to keep processed sweeteners an occasional treat, rather than a habit.
Working toward clearer labeling and more transparency in food production doesn’t just serve people with special diets. It helps everyone make smarter choices at the checkout counter—and at the dinner table.
People with diabetes already pay close attention to what they eat. Carbohydrates don't just sit quietly in the background; they directly influence blood sugar. Glucose syrup comes from starch sources like corn, potatoes, or wheat, and gets processed to concentrate its carbs into a sweet, thick liquid. This means each spoonful floods the body with simple sugars, pushing blood glucose higher and faster than many other ingredients.
Everyday foods—candy, sauces, sweetened drinks—often hide this syrup. Even some products that sound harmless, like low-fat yogurt or packaged bread, use it to bump up flavor or texture without changing how the food looks. That sneaky sweetness can spell trouble if you rely on ingredient lists instead of knowing how your body reacts to sugar.
Research published by the American Diabetes Association shows that glucose in its most simple form spikes blood sugar the fastest. Processed sugars from syrup leave people with diabetes scrambling to rebalance with more insulin, whether natural or injected. The catch: over the years, repeated spikes can lead to complications such as nerve damage, kidney issues, or blurry vision.
Many assume that because glucose syrup doesn’t taste as sweet as table sugar, it might not affect blood sugar as much. It doesn’t work out in practice. Glucose syrup has a high glycemic index—sometimes even higher than regular sugar. This means sharper and faster blood sugar spikes, and for people managing diabetes, it just adds another layer of stress. Cane sugar, honey, and even high-fructose corn syrup break down differently in the body, but each brings its own risks.
Natural sugar from fruit enters the bloodstream with help from fiber, slowing the rise. Glucose syrup skips that buffer, dumping sugar straight in. Swapping in syrup for regular sugar rarely pays off for those who monitor carbs.
Glucose syrup’s magic for manufacturers comes from cost and chemistry. It gives candies chew, makes ice cream smoother, even helps baked goods turn golden. Companies can buy giant containers for less money than pure cane sugar. For people with diabetes, these financial benefits come at a health cost if companies don’t clearly mark ingredients.
Having lived with type 2 diabetes personally, the battle with hidden sugar feels relentless. Every meal means reading ingredients, guessing about restaurant menus, and double-checking foods that look innocent. Most nutritionists recommend choosing whole foods not because of hype, but because unprocessed meals give you control. Roasted chicken, steamed greens, an apple for dessert: these never sneak in glucose syrup.
Label reading becomes habit. For folks new to diabetes, start there. Pick up that granola bar, skip the cartoon on the label, and hunt down the tiny print. Words like “glucose syrup,” “dextrose,” and “corn syrup” signal a fast-acting sugar rush.
Some people ask about sugar substitutes. Options like stevia or monk fruit bring sweetness without the sugar explosion, though taste and tummy tolerance vary.
Glucose syrup serves a purpose in food processing, but people with diabetes benefit by limiting it wherever they find it. Choosing home-cooked meals over packaged snacks, getting support from diabetes educators, and sharing experiences with friends or family all stack the odds in your favor. The path to steady sugar control rarely includes glucose syrup on the grocery list.
Walking through the baking aisle, I’ve stared more than once at all the choices. White sugar, brown sugar, honey, then hiding in clear bottles: glucose syrup. Some folks use it to keep candies silky-soft or to give frostings that glossy finish. But using glucose syrup as a swap for sugar in a classic cookie? That path has some twists.
Sugar comes from sugarcane or beets and shows up on most ingredient lists as “sucrose.” It’s more than sweet. Sugar helps a cake rise, makes cookies crisp, and gives that Maillard browning bakers watch for. Glucose syrup—often made from corn or wheat—brings its own thing to the table. It’s thick, gooey, and less sweet than sugar. If you measure out a spoonful, you’ll notice it’s smoother and stickier. Its main rockstars are glucose molecules rather than sucrose.
The kitchen teaches faster than any textbook. I tried once to make chocolate chip cookies with only glucose syrup on hand. They spread out more than usual, baked up chewy instead of crispy at the edges, and turned out a bit pale. Not necessarily bad, but if you expect that classic sugar snap, it won’t happen. Sugar crystals give structure, and without them, treats get bendy.
Glucose syrup doesn’t caramelize like granulated sugar. Pies and breads that need a brown crust miss out on that golden look. Also, cakes may end up stickier. People who bake candies use glucose syrup to keep their sweets from turning gritty—science calls this “preventing crystallization.” That same property can make fudge or fondant turn out glossy and soft. Still, your morning muffins might feel off if you replace all the sugar.
Glucose syrup tastes less sweet, so using the same amount as sugar often underwhelms the palate. To bump up the flavor, bakers sometimes add more syrup. That extra syrup not only hikes up total carbohydrates, it messes with recipes’ moisture balance. The American Heart Association reminds us that syrupy sweeteners—glucose syrup included—can send calories soaring while giving little nutrition in return.
The conversation around sugar swaps often veers toward the health side. Some gluten-free bakers and those with allergies choose pure glucose syrup made from wheat because it’s free from fructose, but this is only safe if a reputable source guarantees it’s gluten-free. Diabetes organizations warn that glucose syrup has a high glycemic index, which means it makes blood sugar levels climb quickly—another thing to keep in mind for anyone watching their sugars.
If you want to try glucose syrup in your recipes, cut back a bit on liquid. For each cup of sugar, swap in about three-quarters of a cup of syrup and decrease other liquids a little. You won’t hit the same crunch or deeply caramelized notes, but cakes will stay moist longer. Shortbread crumbles less, candies avoid getting grainy, and gingerbread keeps its chew all week.
Glucose syrup isn’t a perfect replacement for sugar in every bake. It plays a specific role in professional candy kitchens and shines brightest as a team player, not a solo act. Bakers reach for it to improve texture, not just sweetness. Swapping it in works best for special treats, like marshmallows or caramels. For that Saturday morning coffee cake, classic sugar still wins most days.
Some foods complicate life for people with celiac disease or gluten sensitivities. Candy, sodas, and other sweet treats often list “glucose syrup” among their ingredients. On store shelves, that name can brew uncertainty and even fear. The source of the anxiety: many glucose syrups come from wheat. Most of us learn to keep a close eye on anything connected to wheat. That habit makes sense when even crumbs can spark a health emergency.
Glucose syrup can come from wheat, corn, potatoes or even rice. In Europe, wheat often serves as the main feedstock. North American brands lean toward corn. Wheat as a source naturally triggers worry for people who need to avoid gluten. Gluten stands as a major protein in wheat, and it’s this protein that gives bread its stretch and chew. The moment wheat appears in a food’s chain of production, it raises the same red flag.
Processing transforms the starch from wheat into simple sugars. The industry uses enzymes, acids, or both to break down the starch. Gluten, while present at the start, doesn’t hold up to such aggressive treatment. Most gluten proteins get broken down or filtered out, to the point where almost nothing remains. European Union law echoes this: if glucose syrup comes from wheat but holds less than 20 parts per million gluten, the law allows companies to label it “gluten-free.” That threshold matches the level considered safe for most people with celiac disease.
For people who’ve felt the very real symptoms of gluten reactions—joint aches, skin problems, fatigue, or worse—labeling promises can sound hollow. Experience teaches that eating “mostly” gluten-free quickly turns into feeling “mostly” terrible. Still, peer-reviewed studies have checked the final content of glucose syrup. One study in Food Chemistry measured trace gluten in wheat-based glucose syrups and found nothing even close to the legal limit. Many international celiac organizations, such as Beyond Celiac and Coeliac UK, repeat these findings and reassure people that wheat-derived glucose syrup does not cause trouble for nearly all people with celiac disease.
Food companies should aim for transparency, clearly stating the source and status of each additive. “Glucose syrup (wheat)” on a label quickly tells you what you need to know. Companies that source from corn or potatoes could make it easier by telling customers right on the packaging. Consumers deserve honest answers, because living gluten-free is more than a list of forbidden ingredients—it’s an everyday discipline, a set of routines forged out of necessity.
Avoiding risk means trusting reliable brands and reaching for products marked gluten-free by certification bodies. Most people with celiac disease or non-celiac gluten sensitivity find wheat-based glucose syrup safe. For those with wheat allergies—not sensitivity, but a real allergy—the situation is different. Some traces could appear, so a certified answer from a brand or manufacturer still makes a difference.
The science gives strong evidence that glucose syrup, even if made using wheat, lands safely in the gluten-free camp. At the same time, support for people needing to avoid gluten will always come back to better labeling, food industry openness, and listening to the voices of those with lived experience. Keeping trust in the system requires more than numbers. It needs daily respect for the people reading that tiny ingredients list at the store, hoping their next meal won’t bring pain.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | D-glucopyranose hydrolyzate |
| Other names |
Glucose Liquid Glucose Corn Syrup Dextrose Syrup Hydrolyzed Starch Syrup |
| Pronunciation | /ˈɡluːkəʊs ˈsɪr.əp/ |
| Preferred IUPAC name | D-glucopyranose oligomers |
| Other names |
D-glucose syrup Corn syrup Starch syrup Liquid glucose |
| Pronunciation | /ˈɡluː.kəʊs ˈsɪr.əp/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 8029-43-4 |
| Beilstein Reference | 1364705 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:132361 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL4295471 |
| ChemSpider | 16218896 |
| DrugBank | DB09311 |
| ECHA InfoCard | ECHA InfoCard: 03-2119457420-46-0000 |
| EC Number | EC 232-436-4 |
| Gmelin Reference | Gmelin Reference: 83257 |
| KEGG | C00221 |
| MeSH | D005947 |
| PubChem CID | 5793 |
| RTECS number | SQ9646276 |
| UNII | TD585D70KS |
| UN number | UN 3206 |
| CompTox Dashboard (EPA) | DTXSID2036871 |
| CAS Number | 8029-43-4 |
| Beilstein Reference | 3589077 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:132144 |
| ChEMBL | CHEBI:6669 |
| ChemSpider | 22215 |
| DrugBank | DB09462 |
| ECHA InfoCard | ECHA InfoCard: 03-2119457420-49-0000 |
| EC Number | 200-066-2 |
| Gmelin Reference | 22211 |
| KEGG | C00221 |
| MeSH | D005947 |
| PubChem CID | 5988 |
| RTECS number | MD8200000 |
| UNII | TD5NXC1A69 |
| UN number | UN3202 |
| CompTox Dashboard (EPA) | DTXSID1060838 |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | C6H12O6 |
| Molar mass | 180.16 g/mol |
| Appearance | Clear, viscous, colorless or slightly yellowish liquid |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 1.4 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Very soluble in water |
| log P | -3.2 |
| Vapor pressure | Negligible |
| Acidity (pKa) | 3.5 – 6.0 |
| Basicity (pKb) | 10.4 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | Diamagnetic |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.457 – 1.477 |
| Viscosity | High |
| Dipole moment | 0 D |
| Chemical formula | C6H12O6 |
| Molar mass | 180.16 g/mol |
| Appearance | Clear, colourless or almost colourless, viscous liquid. |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 1.4 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Soluble in water |
| log P | -3.7 |
| Vapor pressure | Negligible |
| Acidity (pKa) | 3.5–5.0 |
| Basicity (pKb) | > 10 – 12 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | Diamagnetic |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.457 – 1.478 |
| Viscosity | High |
| Dipole moment | 0 D |
| Thermochemistry | |
| Std molar entropy (S⦵298) | 510.68 J/(mol·K) |
| Std enthalpy of formation (ΔfH⦵298) | -1275 kJ/mol |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | -2837 kJ/mol |
| Std molar entropy (S⦵298) | 410.0 J·mol⁻¹·K⁻¹ |
| Std enthalpy of formation (ΔfH⦵298) | -1275 kJ/mol |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | -2805 kJ/mol |
| Pharmacology | |
| ATC code | A11JA – Glucose |
| ATC code | A11JA – Dietary supplements |
| Hazards | |
| Main hazards | No significant hazards. |
| GHS labelling | GHS labelling for Glucose Syrup: `"Not classified as hazardous according to GHS"` |
| Pictograms | vegan, vegetarian, gluten-free, halal, kosher, additive-free, non-gmo |
| Signal word | No Signal Word |
| Hazard statements | No known hazard statements. |
| Autoignition temperature | 450°C |
| LD50 (median dose) | LD50 (median dose) of Glucose Syrup: "25800 mg/kg (oral, rat) |
| NIOSH | MW8500000 |
| PEL (Permissible) | Good |
| REL (Recommended) | 80 g |
| Main hazards | Not regarded as a health or environmental hazard. |
| GHS labelling | Not classified as hazardous according to GHS |
| Pictograms | Glucose Syrup: no_gluten, no_lactose, vegan, vegetarian |
| Hazard statements | Glucose Syrup is not classified as hazardous according to GHS; no hazard statements apply. |
| NFPA 704 (fire diamond) | NFPA 704: 1-0-0 |
| Autoignition temperature | 530°C |
| Explosive limits | Explosive limits: Non-explosive |
| LD50 (median dose) | LD50: 25,800 mg/kg (rat, oral) |
| NIOSH | GRQ420000 |
| PEL (Permissible) | 10000 mg/kg |
| REL (Recommended) | 35 g |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Corn syrup Maltose syrup High fructose corn syrup Dextrose Maltodextrin Golden syrup Inverted sugar syrup |
| Related compounds |
Corn syrup High-fructose corn syrup Maltose syrup Dextrose Fructose syrup Starch hydrolysate |