The Bro Diet is Initiatory

I’ve been busy working on a book, but The Bro Diet diet came up in conversation the other day. So here’s something fun and light while I torture myself doing moral philosophy.

Decades ago, broscientists from around the world reached a consensus regarding the optimal baseline diet for bros who are ready to “eat clean” and train to reach their physical potential.

Representatives from both The House of Natty and The House of Tren Hard Eat Clen were present. They came to a rare agreement on this one item before they returned to their customary bickering and exchanging accusations about being “jelly losers” or being “drug addicts and cheaters with tiny nuts.”

Scattered representatives from warring federations of powerlifters allowed the motion to pass. However, they did collaborate to issue a strongly worded statement about the necessity of donuts, pizza, and candy for high performance situations or even particularly demanding sets.

The recipe for the bro diet was then chiseled into Milo’s second stone, which had been hidden from historians by the mysterious Mithraic bros sometime during the final years of the Roman Empire. After the work was done, the stone was returned to its secret location where it is stored beside the real Arc of the Covenant and the stones from the documentary The Fifth Element. You need a Bro Multi-Pass and a ginger baddie escort to view the original engraving.

The formula endured through the dark ages of GNC deception and misleading Celltech endorsements. It survived the carnivore diet that every dude who didn’t want to “count calories” went on so he could brag about eating steaks and lose ten pounds of water weight. During the plague years, the bro diet was passed down to the “real ones” who were ready for the true knowledge while sensitive young men on X (Formerly Twitter) were busy sunning their balls, rubbing honey on their nipples, and exploring the Dionysian realms of organic wine mom wisdom.

Today, most wayward bros have thankfully returned to the scientific method and careful research. Nearly every man who has seen the inside of the gym has become “something of a scientist” himself.

But no matter how many Chinese research chemicals you inject into your love handles, if you want to make gains—you’re still going to have to get your macros right.

Now, you can actually reach your macros in all kinds of inventive ways. I could tell you how to do it with cheeseburgers or turkey sandwiches. There’s that whole Ninja-creami protein ice cream thing I’ve heard so much about. I’ve always thought someone should host a “Chopped”-style cooking show where chefs have to compete to hit numbers, because you can get really creative with this. There are Instagram channels that teach you all kinds of tricks. A good friend of mine is an American chef who studied in India, and he wrote a cookbook showing how to make Indian classics macro-friendly.

All of that is good.

But if you’re serious about getting into better shape as a man, and you’ve never lived on meal preps of chicken and rice for at least three months, you are NOT READY for any of that information.

I hear men and women complain all the time that they “just couldn’t count calories” or that they “need more variety.” Others insist that “enjoying food is an important part of life,” or that they’re “trying to eat healthy in an intuitive way.” Some of them just have too many family events and would feel “rude” if they didn’t eat all of the snacky pies and cheesy cakes that their feeder relatives push on them like double-chinned dope dealers.

All of those reasons are copium and no one who says these things is ever serious about “the life.” Almost none of them will make any progress unless they have a trainer holding their hand and scolding them into “eating like an adult” every day.

The bro diet is not ayahuasca or magic mushrooms, but it does have something to teach you.

It will teach you to stop caring about what food tastes like.

The bro diet will teach you that every single meal does not in fact have to be a party in your goddamn mouth.

Many of your ancestors were glad to get a bowl of gruel and a chicken wing.

Most people ate fairly plain food outside of festivals and special occasions.

You can do that too, and be glad that it’s chicken and rice and broccoli with sriracha.

It could be, well…gruel.

Or hardtack.

The men who discovered America and the North Pole and Shackleton’s men who explored Antarctica survived on rock hard bread that they had to dip in water so it wouldn’t chip their fucking teeth.

You can get by on chicken and rice for a few months.

It will be good for you.

Call it a “cleanse.”

You don’t have to eat the bro meal forever. Like I said, there are options and hacks. It’s not a “forever diet.”

But you need to START with chicken and rice. You need to have that experience.

It’s something you will come back to. It’s a home base. When I mentioned it, a jacked guy I know commented, “It’s a classic because it never fails.”

If you commit to chicken and rice, you will recomp. It will be good. And you will remember that.

Here is the recipe. You can change the proportions. You can cut or grow on this just by varying the amount of chicken and rice.

The basic meal, the one in my refrigerator right now, is:

There’s some big fake debate in the news right now about $20 burritos. That’s probably only happening in retarded commie cities in blue states where they raised the minimum wage too high and tax the hell out of every business. But even in “flyover country,” a trip to McDonald’s will set you back almost $15. Most food costs a lot more than it should, everywhere.

That said, at the reasonably nice chain grocery store across from my house in a Phoenix suburb, chicken breasts are about $2.99/pound. Rice costs almost nothing. A single Bro Meal prep costs about $3. “Locking in” on a bro diet is about as cheap as you can eat.

I am no food Philistine. I never stopped appreciating food, and, when I turn it on, I’m a decent and intuitive cook. I trained as a pastry cook for a hot minute under a chef who was once voted the best in Paris. I have a vintage copy of Larousse Gastronomique, just like Hannibal Lecter. My favorite cookbook is Meat: A Kitchen Education by James Peterson.

If I had to order a last meal, I’d start with a charcuterie board. Nothing too exotic. Prosciutto and Finocchiona. STFU I like fennel. Let’s say it’s Promethean. Maybe surprise me with something gamey like wild boar salami. The cheeses would include a Morbier and Humboldt fog, because I like the idea of the ash in the middle. Then maybe something like a La Tur and a pungent brie that smells like “ze feet of ze angels.” I would be drinking Negronis because they are my favorite drink, and a singular joy of my existence. I would be mixing them myself because I watched them made in Florence where the drink was invented and mine are now better than most. Raw oysters, served on ice with a champagne mignonette. An Italian preparation of Octopus. Maybe bites of carpaccio, steak tartare, and roasted marrow. My favorite comfort entree is a proper Bolognese, but I might just go for a ribeye. Shoestring frites. Steak frites are precious and overrated, but shoestring frites are the best fries. American steak fries are soft, sloppy, and vulgar. Like your mom.

I don’t really do dessert, but, if pressed, I could do espresso and a pistachio gelato and not be mad about it. Maybe some Fernet-Branca.

You don’t have to stop enjoying food. You just have to let go of the idea that you need to enjoy every meal.

I can love all of these finer things, and enjoy them all from time to time.

But I can live, day to day, on chicken and rice, protein shakes, and low-fat cottage cheese.

You can, too.

And if you’ve never done it, you probably need to.

Just for a few months, until you learn what the bro diet has to teach you.

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