Just two months after starting my job at WIRED, I found myself in an unexpected predicament—throwing up in the office bathroom.
While it was technically due to work-related stress, the real cause was far less dramatic. I had opted to adopt a diet exclusively filled with foods, drinks, and supplements advertised as high in protein, all in a bid to meet the daily protein intake guidelines set forth by the US Department of Health and Human Services, headed by Robert F. Kennedy Jr.
The incident happened about an hour after I tried Ghost’s Nutter Butter-flavored whey protein powder. My partner, Mads, typically uses it to fuel her workouts, and I viewed it as a quick way to reach 26 grams of protein. Although she had initially grumbled about my decision to sample it—“it’s expensive!”—she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to test any of the other questionable items on my meal plan for the week. I naively followed the jar’s instructions, dumping a heaping scoop of the Ghost powder into just 5 or 6 ounces of water, only to be faced with a glass of what can only be described as peanut butter sludge. After I recovered from the unpleasant experience, Mads informed me that she typically adds only a small amount of that vile powder to her cereal milk. As a newcomer to protein-maxxing, it was a valuable lesson learned.
I doubt Kennedy faces such challenges. Earlier this year, the US health secretary introduced a “historic reset” of dietary guidelines for Americans, spotlighting “Prioritizing Protein” as the first commandment. Officials claimed that past dietary recommendations had unjustly demonized protein in favor of carbohydrates. On social media, Kennedy has been seen dining at a Texas barbecue restaurant enjoying a “protein-packed” meal, touring a Pennsylvania dairy farm promoting “protein-rich” products, and appearing at an event with Mike Tyson to promote the effort to elevate protein’s role in American diets.
In response to Kennedy’s “Make America Healthy Again” initiative, the food industry has unleashed a bewildering array of high-protein products at chain restaurants and grocery stores. Ironically, despite his persistent claims that ultra-processed foods are making Americans sick, protein-enriched versions of many of those same items are now ubiquitous.
Although I’m not someone who lifts weights in jeans—I prefer running outdoors several times a week for exercise—I started to wonder if I was missing out on the purported advantages of protein-maxxing. Perhaps by boosting my protein intake through these trendy protein bowls, bars, and drinks for a week, I might experience improvements in my overall well-being. It certainly seemed easier than ever to fill my shopping cart with products loud about their protein content. So, I decided to give it a try.
Hearty Breakfasts
Eager to increase my protein intake during breakfast—while still embracing the masculinity that seems essential to the Make America Healthy Again ethos—I shelled out $20, plus $7 in shipping, for a box of something called Man Cereal, which turned out to be the most dreadful food I consumed for this experiment. Touted as “sweet, smoky & sigma” in maple bacon flavor, it’s clearly designed for gym enthusiasts who might indulge in questionable podcasts. A single bowl contains 2.5 grams of creatine, a compound known to aid muscle development; however, the taste is overwhelmingly artificial, and the texture is nearly impossible to chew. This creates a gnawing task for anyone who thinks they can enhance their jawlines by “mewing.” As the hard, styrofoam-like balls finally dissolve, they leave an unpleasant grit coating your teeth that would make even the most committedly masculine guys second-guess their choices. Oh, and it contains only 16 grams of protein.
Other protein-loaded options were less revolting but still disappointingly low on protein content. I tried Protein Boostin’ Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts and a package of Kodiak Cakes’ “protein-packed” French toast sticks. While edible, the French toast sticks were rather bland, and when I checked the protein content of each serving—10 grams each—I realized it was slightly less than my usual breakfast of Special K with milk, which provides 13 grams of protein each morning.
Thus, the current protein obsession might be obscuring the reality of American access to substantial protein sources.
