#wholefoodsfoggybottom

[allaboutfoodgwu]

Whey-re To Begin? 

What do you know about protein powder? It sounds pretty straight forward— powdered protein. Maybe this involves some sort of freaky multi-step animal dehydration system followed by some sort of grinding process? 

Personally, I knew protein powder through the instagram-fitness-model-discount-code lens until about a year ago, when I became a vegetarian. I was struggling to cut meat out of my diet without feeling the need to eat all day. My roommate at the time suggested I try adding vegan protein powder to my smoothies to help make up for some of the protein my body was still craving. For the first time, I could see protein powder having a more legitimate use for someone without a fitness focus. 

Where do I go for weird alternative powders? Whole Foods of course.

At the Whole Foods in Foggy Bottom, the protein powders are located downstairs towards the back, near the escalators that lead to check out. There is an entire wall dedicated to a variety of protein powders ranging from brands that market towards nutrition focused customers, to others advertising ‘fit’ or ‘sport’ oriented supplements. The shelves are packed and sit under a sign made up of rustic, stained and exposed four by two wooden planks which read “sports nutrition.” The materials used for the sign appear throughout the store, to add to what one may call an ‘organic’ feel, a kind of, just-pulling-fresh-apples-out-the-farm-refrigerator feel. The protein powder sits nestled between sections for vitamins, beauty and bath products, a mountainous display for bath salts featuring rustic halved barrels, dry bulk bins and small party themed paper things like wrapping paper, cards and ribbons.

While vitamins and other micronutrients are essential for anyone’s diet, I feel like a sort of privilege comes with the ability to afford extraneous additives like protein powder. This suggests whole foods demographic customer. The protein powder’s position in the store next to less essential products— like bath salts, birthday cards and random supplements— yet still easily in plain site, easy to grab on your way up to check out, suggests “maybe you need this protein powder, but you can live without it.” Customer’s who choose to buy protein powder will then go out of their way to add it to/or sub meals later.

I dunno if it was because I shop early in the morning, or the prices scare people off, but I did not see a single protein powder purchaser. It’s surprising, the packed shelves lined up all the labels in a very pleasing, attractive manner. Each sported earthy toned colors and a small graphic of something ‘natural,’ like a vanilla flower resting atop 3 dried vanilla beans (that happens all the time), or aesthetically crushed chocolate squares on a bed of leaves that stand perpendicular from an imaginary surface like bunny ears. 

The labels should be attractive, something has to distract you from the fact that one of their cheapest options, brought to you from the whole foods brands, is 16.2 oz, 17 servings and $25.99. The prices seem to grow with the more additives the brand promises. Vega, for example, was the brand that took up the most shelf space, had a wide variety of purposes for their powders and often advertised vegetables, fruits and vitamins in addition to protein. 

I can’t help but wonder how that all ends up in powder form? And why do we feel the need to ingest it since I’ve been doing fine without it? Tune in next Sunday at midnight to see if I get any closer to solving this cultural conundrum.