Not even two months into my job here at WIRED, I found myself barfing in the office bathroom.

Technically, it was work-related stress, but not in the way you might imagine. It was, instead, the unfortunate and almost immediate result of my efforts to switch to a diet solely consisting of foods, drinks, and supplements marketed as high in protein—and thereby meet the level of daily protein intake recommended by the US Department of Health and Human Services under Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

The conversation on the porcelain telephone came about an hour after I sampled Ghost’s Nutter Butter–flavored whey protein powder. My partner Mads uses it as workout fuel, and I saw it as an easy shortcut to 26 grams of protein. She had already grumbled about me having some for journalistic purposes—“it’s expensive!”—but was relieved that she wouldn’t have to taste-test any of the other slop I had on my list to eat that week. I foolishly took the jar’s suggestion to add a heaping scoop of the Ghost powder to 5 or 6 ounces of water and wound up trying to choke down a glass of peanut butter sludge. (After I vomited, Mads told me that she only ever puts a small dose of this foul powder in her cereal milk). As a protein-maxxing newb, it was a lesson learned.

I doubt Kennedy has these problems. Earlier this year, the US health secretary unveiled a “historic reset” of dietary guidelines for Americans, and the very first item was “Prioritizing Protein.” The department claimed that official dietary guidance in years past had “demonized protein in favor of carbohydrates.” On his social media accounts, Trump’s health secretary can be found visiting a Texas barbecue restaurant for a “protein-packed” meal, touring a Pennsylvania farm that produces “protein-rich” dairy, and appearing at an event with Mike Tyson to promote the Trump administration’s efforts to put protein “at the center of the American plate.”

The food industry has responded to Kennedy’s “Make America Healthy Again” agenda with a dizzying assortment of high-protein items now available in chain restaurants and on store shelves. Despite his frequent claim that ultra-processed foods are making Americans sick, protein-loaded versions of those same foodstuffs are everywhere, as an apparent compromise.

I’m not the kind of guy who lifts weights in jeans—I prefer to run a few miles outdoors most days for my exercise—yet I wondered whether I was missing out on the alleged benefits of protein-maxxing. Perhaps if I upped my nutrient stats with all these trendy protein bowls, bars, and beverages for a week I would start noticing some improvements to my overall quality of life. Certainly, I reasoned, it has never been easier to fill up a grocery cart with products that loudly proclaim their protein content. So that’s what I did.

Manly Breakfasts

Eager to up my protein consumption at breakfast—while maintaining a level of masculinity that seems core to the MAHA ethos—I paid $20, plus $7 in shipping fees, for a box of something called Man Cereal, easily the worst food I ingested for this experiment. The maple bacon flavor is touted as “sweet, smoky & sigma,” further confirming that the stuff is made for gym bros who listen to problematic podcasts, and a bowl nets you 2.5 grams of creatine, a compound that supports muscle development. Too bad it’s both offensively artificial on the palate and nearly impossible to chew through, a fitting exercise for anyone who believes they can improve their jawlines by “mewing.” As the hard, styrofoam-like balls finally break down, they coat your teeth in gritty morsels that should make even the most performatively masculine dude question his commitment to the act. Oh, and it’s only 16 grams of protein.

Other options were less revolting but equally short on protein. I picked up a box of Protein Boostin’ Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts, which hit the market last fall, and a package of Kodiak Cakes’ “protein-packed” French toast sticks. Both tasted fine, even if the French toast sticks were on the bland side, but when I compared the protein content of a serving of either of these foods—10 grams each—I realized it was slightly less than I got from my usual breakfast of Special K with milk, which gives me 13 grams of protein to start the day.

In this way, the current protein craze may be distorting the facts around Americans’ access to it.