My Beef With The Extreme Protein Cult

This is an edition of the newsletter Pulling Weeds With Chris Black, in which the columnist weighs in on hot topics in culture. Sign up here to get it in your inbox every Thursday.

Like clockwork, every year, a new diet trend captivates the World Wide Web. We all know them well: Mediterranean, paleo, keto, Atkins, plant-based, slow-carb, South Beach, Master Cleanse, and, of course, intermittent fasting. These diets were once presented to us in poorly-designed cookbooks that were prominently displayed on the front table at Barnes & Noble and sold millions of copies. Now that everyone is a content-creating expert on anything they’re even mildly interested in, we’re stuck with 24-year-old guys in Austin barking at their front-facing iPhone camera in an ugly new-build kitchen while on a break from their consulting job, showing us how much ground beef they eat for lunch.

Why has extreme protein consumption taken over our timelines? I’m not a doctor, but I understand the basic concept that protein is beneficial for you. It causes less of a glucose spike, which helps you to feel full longer, and many claim it enables you to maintain and, in some cases, build muscle. If you’re a full-time gym rat trying to “get huge” or a professional athlete with a nutritionist, it makes sense to base your diet around protein intake. However, as with everything else in this era, people can’t just decide to increase their protein intake and see if it works—they have to let everybody else know. Protein is now a life shift, a rallying cry, another thing to talk about incessantly on social media. So while consumers flood the local ethical butcher shop, the big guys have taken notice, and now the shelves at your local supermarket are stocked with protein chips, protein cereal, protein cookies, and of course, protein bars. I feel like it’s all I see and hear about, and it’s making me fucking insane.

David is a new protein bar startup with well-designed gold foil packaging, a simple name, and a product that boasts 28g of protein with only 150 calories. Their ascent has been aggressively covered by any outlet that focuses on CPG, food, or even design. Yesterday, in a well-executed marketing stunt, they added a package of four frozen cod filets to their website. It sits right next to the Fudge Brownie and Blueberry Pie bars. It’s a timely and somewhat funny play on how pervasive protein has become online. I am sure they got some orders.

Moderation isn’t necessarily my strong suit. After all, I was a drug addict. But when every single thing we do is about optimization or self-improvement, doesn’t the joy evaporate? I am not suggesting we live like the French or Italians, but maybe it’s time to step back and realize that a meal, especially with good company, is one of life’s last remaining simple pleasures. The dinner table is a place where the phone shouldn’t be out. Ideally, you’re chatting and laughing with people you like while savoring something delicious, comforting, or even challenging (eel dumplings aren’t for me).

I love working out. I want to look good and feel good. But I’m not sure that can truly be achieved if everything, including protein intake, occupies every waking second of my day. I realize that the buffest guy under 30 with the perfect V-taper on TikTok who eats chicken breasts out of plastic containers and sells workout programs in his bio is most likely genetically blessed, possibly using steroids, and also just a fucking dork. None of these people are actual experts; they’re fly-over-city hotties in gyms with ugly equipment and they all want to sell you something. Put down the protein water (that is a real thing) and try to approach life in a measured way where the extremes aren’t touched often. Together, we can end protein tyranny.