NEW YORK, June 10 — Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson recently shared his muscle-building meal plan, startling some with the more than 4,000 calories and 36 ounces of cod he consumes on a daily basis. While my Oklahoma-raised husband nary includes seafood on the menu, he has been “eating for muscle” since high school, as he has trained and competed in wrestling, bodybuilding and power-lifting.
Over the past decade, I have been forced to cede significant kitchen territory to culinary enigmas such as chocolate-flavoured whey protein, pink-hued pre-workout powders and multi-piece shaker bottles. As a result, I have observed at close range the food rules of a deliberately anti-foodie subculture, where positive nitrogen balance triumphs over palatability.
Protein is king
A veritable army of protein-rich comestibles rules our kitchen. Dozens of eggs, pounds upon pounds of lean meat and gallons of milk colonise the refrigerator. Large, barrel-like canisters of protein powder and accompanying supplements set up camp in one of the largest cupboards. Far from a child’s after-school snack, skim string cheeses populate the dairy drawer, ready in waiting for when hunger strikes.
Food is fuel
Anyone following an eating plan like this calculates each meal to provide a specific amount of carbohydrate, fat and protein, referred to as “macros.” This means that seasoning, texture and overall flavour may fall to the wayside. For example, on the morning of my husband’s final bodybuilding competition, he ate his last meal: a boiled chicken breast and a side of cooked oatmeal with cinnamon. He ate it cold. Out of a plastic container. Standing up. He might not have tasted it at all. It was just fuel. One last fill up before the show.
Taste is secondary
When protein commands the kitchen, flavour may be highly compromised, as foods take on a decidedly chalky taste. With options like chocolate malt, cinnamon graham cracker and banana cream, protein powder flavours may mimic a dessert menu, but they taste nothing like it. While there are certainly vegetarians and vegans who successfully follow muscle-building diets, it is unlikely many foodies could follow this regimen.
Cheating is part of the plan
Not all muscle-building meals are so profoundly ascetic. Bodybuilding resources abound that promote scheduling “cheat meals,” food breaks that understandably relieve the monotony of the diet, enhancing compliance and preserving sanity. Cheat meals also purportedly boost hormones and insulin sensitivity, which can be affected by prolonged calorie restriction during stricter phases of the pre-competition diet.
Bulk is good
Building muscle bulk is one thing. Preparing food in bulk, known as meal prep, is another. Take, for example, the ingredients for one week of my husband’s lunches: Six pounds of ground turkey, two cups of whole grain pasta, four cups of chopped vegetables and another four of greens, plus olive oil and low-calorie salad dressing. He prepares these meals in a fury on Sunday evenings, transforming our kitchen counter into a Ford-inspired assembly line. In under an hour, he cranks out five identical lunches, programmed for macros and packed into transportable containers. You can judge a muscle-building kitchen by how many pieces of Tupperware it holds.
Meal prep is not cooking
Make no mistake. Meal prep is not exactly cooking. It lacks cooking’s therapeutic value, its sensual processes, its variation and its creativity. Meal prep is mass assembly, measured and calculated. Meal prep is about efficiency, convenience and perhaps above all, adherence. Because sticking to the plan facilitates meeting one’s goals. It means making weight or achieving a competition-ready physique at just the right time — and if everything falls into place, winning. — Zester Daily/Reuters
