Most of us are already eating plenty of it
Across Britain's supermarkets and coffee shops, protein has been elevated from humble macronutrient to cultural obsession, woven into sausage rolls, chocolate bars, and morning foam with the fervour of a wellness gospel. Yet nutritional science offers a quieter truth: most adults already consume what their bodies require through ordinary meals, and the elaborate architecture of fortified products answers a need that, for most people, does not exist. The gap between what we are told we lack and what we actually need is, in this case, being filled not by evidence but by commerce.
- Nearly half of British adults have deliberately increased their protein intake, driven by a marketing wave that frames the nutrient as a remedy for ageing, weight gain, and physical decline.
- Food manufacturers from Greggs to Starbucks to Snickers are racing to reformulate products with protein claims, creating a crowded market where health signalling often obscures high sugar and fat content.
- Nutritionists and the British Nutrition Foundation are pushing back, stating plainly that UK adults already exceed the recommended 0.75g per kilogram of body weight daily without any supplementation.
- The real risks are being drowned out by the noise — excess protein has been linked to kidney strain and increased osteoporosis risk, consequences that rarely appear on the packaging.
- The trend lands unevenly: older adults and athletes do have genuine need for higher intake, but for the average consumer, the protein aisle represents a solution in search of a problem.
Walk into any British supermarket today and protein is everywhere — in the coffee foam, the chocolate bar, the sausage roll. Research by Ocado Retail suggests nearly half of UK adults have deliberately increased their intake, swept along by marketing that treats protein as a cure for everything from weight gain to ageing muscles.
The reality, according to the British Nutrition Foundation, is more modest. Adults need roughly 0.75 grams of protein per kilogram of body weight each day — around 45 grams for an average woman, 55 for an average man. These are not difficult targets. Most people in Britain already clear them through ordinary eating: chicken, eggs, fish, beans, cheese. The supplements and fortified products flooding the market are, for the majority, simply unnecessary.
Protein does important work — breaking into amino acids that build tissue, support hormones, fuel the immune system. For athletes recovering from intense training, or older adults losing muscle through sarcopenia, higher intake genuinely matters. Some research also links greater protein consumption to reduced risk of type 2 diabetes. But excess carries its own costs: strain on the kidneys and a heightened risk of osteoporosis are both associated with overconsumption, risks that rarely feature in the marketing.
The commercial landscape tells a different story. Wall's now sells a High Protein Sausage Roll with 16 grams; Greggs offers protein shakes with 26 grams; Starbucks has introduced a whey protein cold foam; Snickers bars have been reformulated to deliver 23 grams alongside 30 percent less sugar. Pret, Hippeas, and Aldi have all joined the movement. The appeal is real — protein does promote satiety and carries fewer calories than fat — but many of these products bundle their protein with significant sugar and fat, complicating the health narrative considerably.
What the trend ultimately reflects is a familiar pattern: an industry taking something genuinely useful and persuading consumers they need far more of it than they do, delivered in forms that often undermine the very benefits being sold. For most people, the protein question was already answered at the dinner table.
Protein has become the nutrient of the moment. Walk into any supermarket or coffee shop in Britain and you'll find it added to things that never needed it before—your morning coffee now comes topped with whey protein foam, chocolate bars promise 23 grams per serving, and even sausage rolls have been reformulated to deliver an extra hit. Nearly half of all British adults have deliberately increased their protein consumption in recent years, according to research by Ocado Retail, riding a wave of marketing that treats the macronutrient as a cure-all for everything from weight loss to aging muscles.
But here's the thing: most of us are already eating plenty of it. The British Nutrition Foundation is clear on this point. An average adult needs about 0.75 grams of protein per kilogram of body weight each day. For a woman weighing 60 kilograms, that's 45 grams. For a man at 75 kilograms, it's 55 grams. These are not ambitious targets. The foundation's position is blunt: people in the UK are consuming more than enough protein through ordinary food, and the supplements and fortified products flooding the market are, for most of us, unnecessary.
Protein itself is straightforward in what it does. It breaks down into amino acids, which the body uses to build and repair tissue—skin, hair, muscles, bones. It helps manufacture hormones and enzymes, provides energy, and supports immune function. For people who exercise heavily or who are growing older and losing muscle mass through a process called sarcopenia, more protein does matter. Athletes need it to repair their bodies after intense training. Older adults benefit from extra intake as their natural muscle loss accelerates. And some research has linked higher protein consumption to a reduced risk of type 2 diabetes and kidney failure.
But the flip side exists too. Eating too much protein has been associated with strain on the kidneys and an increased risk of osteoporosis, the bone-weakening condition. The hype around protein, in other words, has outpaced the evidence for why most people need more of it.
Yet the food industry has noticed the appetite for it—both literal and figurative. Wall's recently launched a High Protein Sausage Roll containing 16 grams, made with pork and lentils, at 303 calories. Compare that to Greggs' traditional sausage roll with 9.2 grams of protein but 348 calories, and the marketing advantage becomes clear. Greggs itself has jumped in with protein shakes offering 26 grams each. Starbucks introduced Protein Cold Foam, a sugar-free topping with 15 grams of whey protein per serving. Snickers bars now come with 23 grams and 30 percent less sugar. Pret has launched protein plates—chicken and greens with 34 grams, salmon and egg with 31 grams. Even savory snacks like Hippeas crisps and Aldi's Protein Balls have been reformulated to highlight their protein content.
The appeal is understandable. Protein does help people feel fuller longer, and it contains fewer calories than fat. For people using appetite-suppressing medications, sometimes called fat jabs, which can cause muscle loss as a side effect, extra protein makes sense. But many of these new products come loaded with sugar and fat alongside the protein, turning what sounds like a health move into something more complicated. The trend reflects a broader pattern in food marketing: taking something good and necessary, then convincing people they need far more of it than they actually do, packaged in forms that often contain other things they probably shouldn't eat much of.
For the average person eating a normal diet with chicken, fish, eggs, cheese, beans, and peas, the protein question is already answered. The food is already there. The question now is whether the industry can convince us we need it in our coffee too.
Citações Notáveis
In the UK, on average, we are eating more than enough protein so we don't need extra from supplements or products with added protein.— British Nutrition Foundation
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why has protein suddenly become the thing every food company wants to add to everything?
Because it's become a status symbol for health. People see athletes and fitness influencers talking about protein, they hear it helps with weight loss, and suddenly they think they're deficient. The food industry saw that anxiety and built a market around it.
But aren't we actually deficient? Shouldn't we want more protein?
Most of us aren't. The British Nutrition Foundation says we're already eating enough. A 60-kilogram woman needs 45 grams a day—that's in a chicken breast, some eggs, a bit of cheese. We're getting it without trying. The industry is selling a solution to a problem that doesn't exist for most people.
So who actually does need more?
Older people, mainly. As you age, your muscles naturally start to waste away. Extra protein helps slow that. And athletes—people doing serious training need more to repair their bodies. But a person working an office job and going for occasional walks? They're fine.
What about the weight loss angle? Doesn't protein help you feel full?
It does, yes. Protein is satiating and has fewer calories than fat. That's real. But a lot of these new products—the protein bars, the fortified snacks—they're also loaded with sugar and fat. You're not getting a clean win. You're getting protein plus a lot of other things.
Is there any actual downside to eating too much protein?
There can be. Too much has been linked to kidney strain and increased osteoporosis risk. It's not like protein is dangerous, but the idea that more is always better—that's not supported by the evidence. It's just marketing.
So what should someone actually do?
Eat normally. Chicken, fish, eggs, beans, cheese. Spread it across your meals. You'll get what you need. Skip the protein foam on your coffee.