In the early 1950s, “Hi-Proteen” powder, one of the first modern protein supplements, hit the market. Initially, it tasted awful. But after its creator, Bob Hoffman, added in Hershey’s chocolate, the flavor improved. (He used a canoe paddle to stir his mixture in a giant vat.) Protein products have come a long way since then. Perhaps, they have come too far: Last weekend, at the gym, I was offered a can of lemon-flavored “protein ice tea.” The summery, yellow-striped packaging advertised 15 grams of protein per can, or about the same as what you might get from three eggs.
Apparently protein shakes and protein bars don’t cut it anymore. Americans are so obsessed with protein that even an Arnold Palmer comes infused with it. Perhaps protein iced tea was inevitable. Whenever something is trendy, the food industry can’t help but push things to the extreme—consider “plant-based” peanut butter (as if the spread was not already vegetarian) and gluten-free pumpkin dog biscuits. But even compared with other food trends, the protein situation has gotten out of hand. Just last week, Starbucks announced that it’s piloting a high-protein, banana-flavored cold foam. There is protein water, Kardashian-branded protein popcorn, and “macho” protein pasta sauce. If you want to get drunk while bulking up, consider a protein-fortified pale ale or a “Swoleberry” spiked protein seltzer. Nothing is safe from the protein pandemonium. Name a food, and the protein version of it probably exists.
Even if you, like me, aren’t trying to maximize your protein intake, all of these products can be hard to escape. They have infiltrated every inch of the supermarket: On Monday, I went grocery shopping with the mission of finding the most ridiculous protein-enriched ingredients possible. While preparing my meal, I crunched on ranch-flavored protein tortilla chips (13 grams) and sipped from a bottle of grapefruit-flavored protein water (20 grams). Dinner began with a salad made of “OrganicGirl Protein Greens,” which feature an assortment of mixed greens including naturally protein-rich sweet-pea leaves (5 grams). My main course was chickpea protein pasta (20 grams) and salmon (40 grams). I topped it all off with a frozen peanut-butter-banana bar for dessert (another 5 grams).
In total, I ate more than 170 grams of protein on Monday, or the equivalent of 31 medium eggs. According to the federal government’s recommendations, that’s almost four times what someone of my build and activity level needs in a day to maintain a “nutritionally adequate” diet. The official dietary guidelines suggest that a person needs at least 0.36 grams of protein per pound of body weight to stay healthy. That’s not all that much protein. Before my dinner experiment, I had gone through the day without thinking about my protein consumption, and had already surpassed my recommended amount by more than 30 percent. The average American adult regularly exceeds the federal recommendation.
So why is protein showing up in iced tea? Some health experts think that the current federal recommendation is insufficient. They believe that for optimal health—to get beyond simply meeting basic nutritional needs—we should be consuming double, if not triple, the recommended amount. Some people—those who strength train, for instance—certainly benefit from increased intake. But for the average person, most experts don’t see the point in going wild with protein, as my colleague Katherine J. Wu has written.
What makes protein so appealing is that it has been offered as an answer for lots of people’s dietary goals. Want to build muscle? Eat protein. Want to feel fuller for longer? Eat protein. Want to lose weight? Eat protein. The nutrient can indeed help with all of those, but sometimes, the claims turn absurd. Cargill, the food giant, recently suggested that protein might help solve broken marriages: “Protein helps individuals become better parents, partners and employees,” the company wrote in a report this spring. In other words, protein has become synonymous with “healthy.” The message seems to be resonating: Last year, 71 percent of American adults said they were trying to consume more of it.
For food companies, adding protein to virtually everything is an easy way to make their products more alluring. No Starbucks executive is going to suggest a new line of “fat enhanced” cold foam or iced tea with extra carbs. But extra protein—sure. And that’s how we end up in a world of protein mania. The protein shake has given way to protein coffees and protein matchas and protein energy drinks and protein sodas. The protein bar has similarly descended into madness: Last week, Hershey’s announced a “Double Chocolate flavored protein bar” that looks like its normal chocolate bar (Hoffman would be proud). For the purists, there’s the recently launched David bar, named after Michelangelo’s, which bills itself as “the most effective portable protein on this planet.” You can eat protein-fortified vanilla glazed donuts for breakfast, top your double cheeseburger with protein-laced ketchup, and finish the day with protein powder mixed with melatonin that promises a good night’s sleep.
If you’re suspicious of these products, it’s for good reason. Shoppers might think that certain foods are healthier now that they have a protein label slapped on them. Some of the new products are truly good for you—but eating a ton of protein-packed candy (or even just lots of red meat) comes with health risks that could offset whatever dubious benefit all that added protein might provide. A Snickers bar with 20 grams of protein is still a Snickers bar.
By the time I finished my protein dinner, I was starting to feel bloated. Still, I wasn’t quite done. I cued up the trailer for Protein, a film that debuted in U.K. cinemas last weekend. The movie tells the story of “a gym-obsessed serial killer” who “murders and eats a local drug dealer” for—what else?—protein. I took a bite of a protein-packed double-chocolate cookie and hit “Play.”
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