As you know, I’m a big fan of your energy bars. I eat Fruition bars all the time when I’m on the bike, and like the way a Pro Bar — especially the Cran-Lemon Twister — gives me a ton of energy when I want to stop for a moment and refuel.
I’ve noticed, both on your website and on the wrappers of the products themselves, that you create “delicious, convenient, healthy plant-based food products.”
And that’s the problem, folks.
While I enjoy a Nutty Banana Boom as much as (maybe more than) the next guy, sometimes I want something that tastes neither nutty nor banana-y. I want something that doesn’t taste like nuts, fruits, or grains at all.
I want something that tastes like a real meal. I want some sodium. I want something that has some protein, and I don’t mean that fake kind of protein you get by eating soy beans or nuts, or that chalky protein you find in most drinks and energy bars.
I want real protein. Caveman protein.
I think, ProBar, the time has come for meat-based energy bars. Or, as I like to call them, “Meat-ergy” bars.
Why Meat-ergy Bars?
When I think about all the people I know (and I know at least fifteen or twenty people), I can say with confidence that pretty much all of us are not vegetarians.
Except for a few. And I have a feeling that the few people I know who are vegetarians are doing so mostly to be obstinate, or because they haven’t recently had a really great burger grilled for them over charcoal.
My point is that most people like meat.
So why are all of our energy bars acting like we’re a bunch of wild-eyed, long-haired, soy milk-drinking, carrot-hugging vegans?
Actually, I use soy milk myself. But that’s because regular milk gives me gas, not because I’m opposed to it on principal. But I’m getting off track here.
So it stands to reason that most of us — 96% of us, according to the way I divided a ‘96 estimate of vegetarians in the US against the current population — would like our energy bars to taste more like food we eat by choice.
You know, like bacon.
Which brings us to my first proposed Meat-ergy bar, which I have asked my good friend Kenny to mock up for you:
Honestly, who wouldn’t want to eat that?
Just think, you’re riding along and you’ve been drinking sweet drinks and sucking down sweet energy gels, and chewing sweet gummy energy stuff. You stop for a moment to have a snack. What do you want: a sweet energy bar, or a bar that has the taste and texture of bacon?
That question, of course, was rhetorical, because the answer is perfectly obvious.
So, to sum up: taste, texture, protein, appeal to the palates of 96% of the population. These are the reasons it’s time for Meat-ergy bars.
Ideas for Meat-ergy Bar Flavors
Be honest, ProBar: do you think anyone has any idea what the “Superfood Slam” tastes like? Or the “Whole Berry Blast?” Or even “Old School PB&J” (hint: it tastes nothing like a real PB&J)? Heck, I’ve had them all and remember they all taste like nuts and dried fruit. Which is fine, if you’re a squirrel.
And that’s why, in addition to the benefits I’ve already listed, Meat-ergy bar flavors practically sell themselves. The flavors you create should be based simply on popular kinds of meat. For example:
BaconBar: This should taste like bacon, at least in the first iteration. Really, I can’t think of anything better. In fact, if you just cook and package bacon, I think most of us will be very happy. Of course, as you roll out new versions of the product, you might want to look into the BLT (perhaps include a packet of mayonnaise), bacon-wrapped steak, and bacon-and-eggs.
BurgerBar: Is there anything in the world better than a good burger? The answer is, “Yes, a burger with bacon,” but that’s not a problem, since I’d just take a bite of the BurgerBar, followed by a bite of the BaconBar. Please do me a favor and use Angus beef, prime or choice cuts only, with modest marbling. Lots of Worcestershire sauce. Grilled over charcoal. Thanks.
SteakBar: I don’t want to get picky, but is it possible for your SteakBar to have options for how the consumer likes their bar cooked? (I’m a Medium guy myself.) I understand that this means you’ll have to contend with product fragmentation — not to mention the problem of how you keep a rare-cooked Meat-ergy SteakBar from getting all gross — but I’m sure your R&D guys will be able to work it out.
ChickenBar: Hey, not everyone likes red meat. And just think how easy it would be to make variations of the ChickenBar. Teriyaki, Barbecue, Cacciatore, you name it: just add the appropriate “marinade” packet before eating.
SalmonBar: Okay, I admit I just threw this idea in here as a joke. I can’t imagine myself opening a Meat-ergy bar mid-ride and being greeted with the scent of fish. But hey, that’s just me. Maybe.
See, ProBar? Those are just the ideas off the top of my head. As you build on the certain success of your first Meat-ergy bars, you can expand the line by going upscale (FiletmignonBar, PrimeribBar) and value-priced (CornedbeefBar, SpamBar). Regional dishes (JambalayaBar in New Orleans, SnailBar in France) are also smart areas of diversification.
I think you’ll agree, ProBar, the time for this innovative product has come. I look forward to being one of your first Meat-ergy Bar customers.
The Fat Cyclist