A digested history of British protein and its strict social hierarchies

The macronutrient has a physiological role as well as a cultural and commercial one.

Photo by Vilma Pimenoff / Millennium Images, Uk

W hy am I worried about high-protein diets? Protein is essential for growth and activity. In an obesogenic world, it helps us achieve a healthy weight; it takes more energy for the body to metabolise protein than it does fat or carbs, so we access fewer of the calories it contains; we feel fuller for longer. What’s not to like?

The molecular complexity of proteins is invaluable to the cook and eater. According to Harold McGee’s masterly An Encyclopedia of Kitchen Science…, around 20 amino acids –the building blocks of protein – occur in significant quantities in food. Each responds in its own way to heat, acid, salt and time. The right amount of heat gives eggs a set white and a runny yolk; the magic of bread is due to wheat proteins; aged hams and mature cheese owe their deliciousness, in part, to the taste of amino acids, available to the tongue when proteins start to break down.

Proteins are socially complex, too. Beyond their physiological role they have a cultural and commercial one – in diets, the gym and social media – and it is this that commands most of our attention.

Proteins have always been synonymous with status in Britain. Before we even understood them, we allocated them a hierarchy: venison at the top, then, in order: beef, other livestock, milk, cream and eggs. Sturdy bacon and cheese fought it out for last place. According to the elaborate bigotry of Victorian morality, described in a child-rearing manual of the 1860s, “Children who, at a befitting age, are judiciously fed on meat, attain a higher standard of moral and intellectual ability than those who live on a different class of food.”

Anxiety around status, and in general anxiety around health, is a gift to commerce, which sniffs out our vulnerabilities like sharks scenting blood. Feeling weedy? Whey powder and casein, with caramel, chocolate and artificial sugars to sweeten the deal, imply that confectionary and shakes will help us bulk up. The word adds a “health halo” and, I would say, a status halo to “protein” pancakes, pizza crusts, ice cream and, my favourite, “protein beer”. “High-protein” exclaim the labels on yoghurts, cheeses, nuts, meats (who knew!). Protein is the last macro-nutrient standing, after carbohydrates and fats have been so thoroughly discredited and partially recredited that it’s difficult to know what is safe to chomp. The unusual allure of a high-protein diet is the licence to eat in quantity (meat!) rather than cut down or cut out.

When war broke out with Germany in 1939, Britain, which imported around 70 per cent of its food, was highly vulnerable to enemy torpedoes. Two physiologists, Elsie Widdowson and Robert McCance, set out to live on a diet of British-grown food. Having survived happily for three months on a weekly allowance that restricted protein intake to 16oz of meat or fish, 4oz of cheese and one egg, McCance, according to the chemist, Walter Gratzer, cycled to a wintry Lake District from Cambridge. There, with Widdowson and six volunteers, he went on strenuous walks (shouldering backpacks filled with rocks and pickaxes). They concluded that they had enough protein to thrive, but lacked calcium. The Ministry of Food based rationing – with calcium-fortified flour – on their (secret) report. There were many complaints during the war, especially from manual workers offended by the lack of meat in the ration. As one ex-prisoner-of-war pointed out acidly, try a life of labouring on black bread and cabbage soup, and you’ll think you are not so badly off after all.

Our scientific knowledge has since changed, but what has mostly changed is the amount of protein available to us. Rather than hunting down every calorie, we are trying to escape them. What happens to all the extra protein your body doesn’t need? Sadly, it doesn’t turn itself into muscle. It’s complicated but – broadly – some becomes fat and some (the nitrogen) becomes waste. When protein was first recognised, in the mid 19th century, it was named after the Greek protos, usually glossed as “first in rank”. A high-protein diet allows us to put ourselves first. That suits a food industry that can only grow if we do. But not, perhaps, a natural world that has to supply it.

[See also: The best rosés are all subtlety]