Could your man survive on macho meals in a bottle?

HENRY DEEDES tries the trendy new shakes aimed at men too alpha to eat

SURELY I’m not the only man who can’t be bothered with the faff of preparing wholesome lunches during the week. For a while, I tried fasting, resisting all food until I got home in the evening, but it was a fairly torturous process. Frequent dizzy spells, mildly violent mood swings, my lower abdomen gargling like an angry plughole. It wasn’t fun for me or my colleagues.

So when I learned about the new, so-called ‘meal-in-glass’ products, which now claim to provide all the basic nutrients we require in a simple milkshake, I was intrigued.

Of course, women have been into these for decades, thanks to brands such as SlimFast and Complan, but I wasn’t interested in some ‘girly’ product that might have made me a laughing stock in the office.

Thankfully, the new raft of men-focused drinks are available packaged in funky, brightly coloured bottles with coolsounding branding. Just as aftershaves must be marketed differently to women’s scents and often come with ‘macho’ names such as Invictus, Intense and Brave, so, too, do these meal replacements.

They’re not targeting women who want to drop a dress size for the Christmas party, rather men who are just too busy (or lazy) to buy and prepare actual meals and who wouldn’t mind going a notch tighter on their belt in the process.

And men, as we know, are increasingly coming under the same pressure that women have long felt to look good and stay trim. Gone are the days when a cheese sarnie and a Twix were the staple for every man’s desk lunch; now wraps, salads and (gasp) even yoghurt are de rigueur.

At the same time, this new generation of meal replacements is tapping into another movement altogether — the technology world’s ongoing push to arrange life so that we can do away with those pesky old-fashioned habits such as, say, sleep or buying, preparing and cooking meals.

So, could these replacement meals be the answer to my office eating woes?

My plan was to have a shake for breakfast and for lunch, followed by a normal supper and plenty of black tea and coffee in between to keep my deprived taste buds occupied. No elevenses, biscuit breaks or cheeky snacks. Nada.

I took delivery of four brands, each one effectively claiming the same thing: that they are delicious, nutritionally complete and can aid weight loss.

They are vegan (naturellement), with around 400 calories per shake (about the same as a Pret a Manger sandwich) and lactose-free.

I’d just returned from a Tuscan road trip, where I guzzled more tortellini than Pavarotti and sank enough Negronis to stun a herd of small elephants. A week’s food and alcohol deprivation might be just what the doctor ordered.

FOR the first three days (starting on a Saturday), I’m on something called Huel — ‘human fuel’ — a powdered formula that is turned into a lumpy, gritty shake. It’s made from oats, various seeds and other stuff you’re likely to see at the bottom of a bird cage. After mixing it with water, I can report it tastes much the same.

But it does the job of filling me up and just about keeps me going until lunchtime, when I’m allowed another one. By six o’clock, I’m raring for supper, but it’s markedly more manageable than fasting, which made me ready to throttle someone by teatime.

On Tuesday, I crack open the Soylent. It was created in Silicon Valley, where it’s apparently all the rage among time-poor dotcom eggheads. The name is a nod to the Harry Harrison novel Make Room! Make Room! which featured a futuristic food source named ‘soylent’. The 1973 sci-fi film adaptation, Soylent Green, famously twisted the plot so soylent was made from human remains! Thankfully, the 2018 version is mainly soy protein and the cacao flavour I try is smooth and rich. Mmm. I could get used to this.

The next day, I try a similar product called Saturo, which might sound like a drink you have with sushi, but actually comes from Austria. At first, I was delighted to see it had the bonus of snack bars to gnaw on during the day.

But it turns out nibbling only stirs your rumbling tummy and makes the whole thing harder.

By Friday, I’m on Mana, a milky drink from the Czech Republic that isn’t as filling as the other shakes and has an unfortunate chalky aftertaste.

Most noticeable over the week is how steady my energy levels are. No mid-morning ‘crash’, no post-lunch urges to snooze. Just a constant, neutral balance.

After ten days, I have lost an impressive half-a-stone. I’ve saved a lot of money, too. Depending on the brand, the two shakes can work out at about €5 a day.

Ordinarily, I probably spend three times that buying breakfast and lunch. Dr Mayur Ranchordas, a senior lecturer in sports nutrition, insists nothing can ever replace food entirely.

‘I think these things are OK once in a while for convenience, say if you’re on a long journey,’ he says. ‘The shakes won’t contain some of the polyphenols [micronutrients in plants] our bodies need.

‘But we need to eat. We need to chew — we have reward centres in our brains that need activity from food. I’d never put a client on a meal-replacement diet.’ Now on the brink of week three, I’m getting bored. Bored by the hunger pangs and the empty feeling in my stomach. I miss having meals, which serve to break up the working day. And I’m fed up with the sludgy shakes that are leaving my poor taste buds feeling neglected.

These products represent a handy stop-gap for a man looking for an easy way to feed himself and drop a few pounds, but I suspect Elon Musk’s dream of a world without eating remains some way off. Thank goodness.