I’ve been training at the Mecca of Bodybuilding — Gold’s Gym Venice — for the past two years and during that time, my allotment of free samples from neighboring supplement stores — GNC, Vitamin Shoppe, Power Nutrition, MaxMuscle and all my other neighbors here in LA — has allowed me to taste more protein bars than any human being should ever be forced to endure.

Certain moments in my protein bar tasting history stand out for me: The first time I ever choked down a disgusting, original sawdust MetRx bar; my first bite of a delicious Cookies n Cream Promax bar that had me inspecting the ingredient list for the word ‘protein’; my brief but torrid love affair with the original Labrada Nutrition PBJ bar (later cancelled); and more recently, my positive experience with Oh Yeah!

But those protein highlights are darkened by a myriad of nameless, faceless one-night stands with protein bars neither memorable or exotic enough to inspire a second date. And despite my addiction to ProMax’s amazingly tasty protein bars, I could never shake the feeling that I was eating CANDY and not FOOD.

So imagine my excitement last week when I saw an attractive young woman standing outside Gold’s Gym offering samples of three different flavors of a new type of protein bar. And by ‘new’, I mean one that wasn’t loaded with words I couldn’t pronounce and colors I couldn’t see and artificial sweeteners that I wished I couldn’t taste.

Before diving in to the Almond Raisin protein cube in front of me, I took a moment to inspect the packaging. It was WHITE. And not glossy, shiny, reflective, make-my-pupils-dilate-white. RECYCLED WHITE. Hmmmm…I thought, how will they compete with the day-glo oranges, shimmery blues, neon reds and glow-in-the-dark green labels that seem to permeate the industry in an attempt to differentiate themselves? I was further impressed by the label which contained the word ‘FOOD’ instead of claims of increasing muscle mass by 3286%. Honesty: A novel concept. I knew immediately from experience that this product would have to stand on its own merit and garner word-of-mouth to be able to grab some shelf space in the crowded supplement aisles.

I dropped the Raw Almond Raisin cube in my mouth and it practically melted. It was like a moist drop of fresh steel-cut oats covered in almonds and raisins. No weird flavors detected. No after-taste. I quickly grabbed a bar and flipped it over to the ingredient list:

Whole Oats, Almonds, Raisins, Whey Protein (Milk), Ground Spices.

That’s it! No Xylitol. No Carageenan. No Witch’s Mole or Eye of Newt. Just REAL FOOD.

I was more than a little impressed. And then I looked at the Nutrient Facts: 18g of protein. WOW!

Deep down inside, I’ve always felt the difference between having a REAL bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit in the morning vs. downing a protein bar, but finally, it seemed, the two worlds had merged into one.

I skipped the Cacao flavor (personal preference) and dove right in to the Raw Walnut Banana. Whoa! My tastebuds jumped up, did two flips, a 360 flying roundhouse kick, and nailed a perfect 10.0 landing. Ingredients: Whole Oats, Walnuts, Whey Protein (Milk), Raisins, Bananas, Ground Spices. I proceeded to distract the demo lady while surreptitiously swiping and eating all of the remaining cubes on her tray.

I was blown away by the flavor, texture and ‘whole foodiness’ of these. It was just way too ‘fresh’ to be possible. Or was it?

I asked the rep how they could use fresh ingredients without preservatives and that’s when I knew I had stumbled on the ‘next big thing’ — she told me the bars must be eaten within about a WEEK of production or else it has to be REFRIGERATED!! You know, like REAL FOOD!

Holy Cow! Fresh food. Real food. Amazing taste. No fillers. No chemicals. No preservatives. No junk.

It was like Moses parting the Red Sea while Jesus was walking on top of it — Two Miracles in One Bar!

Priced around $4/bar and available via either mail order or at your local Whole Foods, it’s worth every red cent.

During a recent and rare sojourn into GNC at the Jefferson Valley Mall, about two miles from Gregg Valentino’s arms, I spied something equally lumpy in a shiny brown wrapper, marked down to half-price: OHYEAH!, it read. But before you can say “Gayer than ice dancing with Clay Aiken”, I chose to look past the porn-influenced name and give this bar a shot. Oddly, before I could even sample it, I told MW Senior Editor Blockhead about my recent purchases and when I mentioned the ‘Oh Yeah’ bar, he quickly said, “That’s my favorite” before clarifying that ISS Research’s Strawberry Flavor was his preferred bar. (Insert fruity joke here!) So there I was — just me and my Ohyeah Protein Bar.

I had selected the Peanut Bar and the first thing I noticed after unwrapping it was how delicious it looked. Trust me, I’ve eaten more than my fair share of candy bars, and I was drooling before I even took a bite. Unlike those companies that drape their inedible protein in a black layer of stale chocolate (or worse, carob!), ISS drapes the Oh Yeah bar in an attractive beige peanut butter coating that barely covered the ample amount of peanuts just beneath the surface. I took a big bite. SCRUMPTIOUS! The crunchy nuts and outer peanut butter layer provided the perfect balance for what appeared to be a dark chocolate protein log inside the bar. ISS wisely masked the flavor of the bland protein mix with fresh peanuts and high quality chocolate and I didn’t taste anything except for what they wanted me to.

I finished the bar in record time and without any beverage needed to wash it down. Most importantly, I actually came close to eating a second bar in the same sitting because it really did taste that great. I’m happy to report that ISS is a company that actually does a bit of taste-testing to deliver a scrumptious, high-quality product that I highly recommend.

Ed. Note: I took away one star for making me say ‘Oh Yeah’ to a pimply-faced teenage boy at the GNC counter.

As I took it with my Code Red Mountain Dew (hey, caffeine + loads of sugar = alert driving!) to the cash register, I took another look at the front: Quadruple Layer! I was so excited I nearly took a bite without unwrapping it. I got back to my Bentley (okay, Murano) and opened it up. In the darkness of my car, I bit into the chocolate coating, felt my teeth sink into and then beyond the second layer of nuts, pass into the exoskeleton of caramel, before reaching the protein core. But instead of saying, “Yummy” or “Wow!”, I shouted, “Bullshit!”  How in God’s name can a company claim that a bar as sweet and gooey and scrumptious as this has 30 grams of protein hidden inside? Or even more preposterously, only 4 grams of simple carbs?? Who do they think they’re fooling? Okay, so I don’t really look like I work out, but do I really look that naïve?

I took another few bites and put the bar down somewhere between the gear shift and the change bucket.  Perhaps my road-weariness and hunger had turned me into some sort of hallucinogenic nomad wandering through the desert, so feverishly and desperately looking for water that he not only imagines that the sand he’s eating is water, but smiles on the verge of death’s door, happily basking in the sun as his sand-filled stomach offers him satisfying relief. In my state, I decided to leave half of the bar for later consumption.

The bar sat in an open plastic bag on my parents’ granite kitchen countertop for the next four days, without any protection from the elements (or cat hair).  At one point my mother took a peek inside the bag and pulled out something labeled “Beyond Ripped”.  Reading the label aloud, she simply laughed and pointed at my belly. Ahhh, self-esteem is a wonderful thing. On the fifth day, I took pity on the remnants of Mr. Supreme Protein and took a fresh bite. What the f*ck!?!? Those goddamn liars did it again!! It actually tasted better after five days at room temperature! This wasn’t a protein bar – it was a mad scientist’s experiment with some futuristic food substances that surely required the services of a 1985 DeLorean and magical clocktower to obtain. Unfair? Yes. Delicious? Absolutely. Liars? Hmmmm….

Rating: SUPREME (Liars?) ***** (Five Stars) out of ***** (Five)

Amended Comment: The quality of these bars has gone WAYYYYYYY down since this original review was published. Expect a new review right here soon!

“I’m going to review your bar and put it on the net,” I warn them, “so pick your best flavor.”

Like Donald Trump and his cronies on The Apprentice, the dorkasaurus and the two unattractive women at the booth briefly put their three ugly Cerberus heads together and announce, “Almond Caramel Crunch” in unison. I stare at them suspiciously for a moment. And then it hits me. Holy fuckwits, Batman! How the hell did the three ugliest people in the entire building all wind up in the same booth? Are they too cheap to shell out $50 for a hot fitness skank with implants and a thong to stand there for ten hours?

I bite into the bar, with these three people now staring intently at my mouth as it chews. And chews. And chews. The bar sticks to every corner of my mouth. I continue chewing as my eyes frantically search for a bottle of anything to wash this shit down. Mr. Propecia seems to sense my desperation but for some strange reason feels compelled to offer up a cheerful “We’re the best-selling bar in the country right now!”

“Manks a fumkin lot,” I reply. Here I am practically choking on his shitty bar, wondering what an improvement it will make when I spit it out onto his face, and this twink has the nerve to fabricate some phony sales statistics. For fuck’s sake, if this piece of insoluble dog crap is the best-selling protein bar in the country, Obama has fucked up America even worse than I thought.

With great determination and effort, I somehow get down the last of the bar and spend a few moments trying to trigger my saliva glands to get the remnants of this sludge down my esophagus. I sense that my audience senses my disappointment. They don’t even offer a full bar or suggest a different flavor for me to try. ‘FAIL’ is written all over their faces.

I quickly place the odds that in precisely one year the three of them will be unemployed at exactly 2:1.

Rating: ** (Two Stars) out of ***** (five)

I’ve tasted worse but never in the presence of such misplaced pride in a crappy product.

Fast forward five years to 1995 and I’m living in New York City and I discover Labrada has his own line of protein bars called Lean Body. It had been a while since my last protein bar so I was a bit hesitant. I scanned over the flavors and picked up one called Peanut Butter and Jelly. I bit into it and couldn’t believe my tastebuds. UNREAL! It actually tasted amazing. I took the label with me on the subway ride back to Brooklyn, analyzing the ingredient list and trying to figure out how they snuck 30 grams of protein past my esophagus without inducing the gag reflex even once. I was stumped.

Labrada eventually stopped making that particular flavor, saddening me and perhaps the other six people who loved the taste of Goober Grape and weren’t afraid to admit it.

Which brings me back to the present. I’m in my local GNC and I see the elegant reflective wrapping of several Labrada Lean Body Caramel Peanut flavored bars sitting in a box, with — you guessed it — orange discount labels. At just $1.50/bar, I banked on Labrada’s goodwill with me and bought the remaining NINE bars in the box.

Upon first bite, I was impressed, as the milk chocolate coating quickly gave way to a soft underbelly of gooey caramel. But as I chewed more and involved the complete range of tastebuds in my mouth, I detected a sodium overload. Sure, it went down without a fight, but a bit of a sour-salty aftertaste lagged behind. The only remedy was to take another bite of the sweet caramel and so on and so forth as my palette carousel continued to circle around the inescapable truth that this wasn’t the Lean Body Bar I had longed for and missed for so long. No, this had to be an anomaly. Or an impostor. Or so I thought. So I waited a few days and ate another one only to feel the same pangs of disappointment set in after the first bite.

Labrada, how COULD you?

Rating: * (One Star) out of ***** (Five)

Editor’s Note: It’s been nearly two years since I wrote this review and I still have a few bars if anyone is interested. I’d send them to Haiti, but chances are they’d be more suited to construct buildings than to be eaten. Hey, that gives me an idea…

Nonetheless, on this particular day in which my better half was lost in the cornucopia of the Mall’s teen clothing stores, I found myself walking past the GNC for the fourth time and decided to have a gander inside. I effortlessly sneaked past the Jay Cutler Hydroxycut display (regularly $89.99 but now $81.99!!) and asked the aforementioned sales clerk what products were selling. Predictably, he replied: “Well the Hydroxycut is always popular but it also really works!” Embarassed by both his inability to conjure up an original thought and the idea that I appeared no wiser than his typical mark, I looked down at the display of protein bars in shame. To my surprise, I saw several bars bearing orange price stickers indicating major price reductions. While I typically scoff at the idea of paying $3.50 for 30g of protein, I have no objections to completing the same purchase at a much lower price point. So when I saw two Muscletech Peanut Butter protein bars marked down to $0.75 cents each, I seized the day and plunked down my Platinum Amex (hey I’m not a cash-carrying kinda guy).

I figured that with its R&D budget exceeding the GNP of most third world countries, Muscletech would have mastered the basics of a quality protein bar — great taste, good texture, and the right combination of chew-ability and saliva-solubility.

Sadly, I was mistaken. I took a bite of the overly salty chocolike coated bar and chewed. And chewed. And kept chewing. Problem was nothing was happening! I actually picked up the bar and read the label again to make sure I hadn’t accidentally picked up Muscletech’s new Protein Bubblegum bar or something that I was expected to chew for several hours. Peanut butter doesn’t lend itself to many great beverage combinations, so I opened my fridge and quickly settled on my son’s whole milk to wash it down. Halfway through the bar, I stopped bothering to chew. It was pointless. This wasn’t a protein bar — it was the world’s largest protein pill.

I took another bite and downed another gulp of milk to help it bypass the peristalsis and go straight into my stomach where presumably, it would continue its resistance to acidic juices before winding its way through my intestines and vacating my colon in its original form. Had I either the time or inclination to do so, I’d send my bowel movement to the Muscletech labs for them to remove the intact piece and recycle it in a new bar, at least to give someone else a shot at obtaining some benefit from my purchase.

Rating: * (One Star) (at $0.75) out of ***** (Five Stars)

Ed. Note: Subtract the entire star if paying retail. Beach sand is free.