Could the controversial US health secretary be right about keto? Best to put his guidance to the test in the Catlins.

When I moved to be with my boyfriend, Taine, I joked to friends and family that I was entering my Martha Stewart era, swapping a fast-paced job in Dunedin for Papatōwai, a town with a population of about 30 that most cell services don’t cover. I’d follow the classic internet trajectory and go from corporate to crunchy, living the slower life, reading the books I’d hoarded and starting that herb garden. What I didn’t anticipate was that, actually, I would be entering my RFK Jr. era. 

Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the US health secretary, has flipped the food pyramid in recently released US guidelines. Grains are out, and fats and proteins are back big time. Rhetoric from this polarising political figure, who is perhaps best known in Aotearoa for linking Tylenol (paracetamol) to autism, often attracts eye-rolling comments from New Zealand academics. And there were certainly New Zealand dieticians who were circumspect about his new pyramid. But this time I caught myself thinking, “Well, maybe”.

A number of my cafe workmates swore by keto and eventually Taine and I hopped on the bandwagon. We had nothing to lose but the relationship weight we’d lovingly accumulated (new year, new us). Here’s our highly unscientific clinical trial of two.

Preparation: Adopting the role of keto guru, a colleague prints us a dietary course. Keto is a low-carb diet that aims to push your body into “ketosis”, where your brain and body switch from carbs to fat as its main battery. The many pages include sanctioned foods and instructions to treat forbidden foods (carbs and anything with an ingredient you can’t pronounce) like contraband. I mournfully pour a half-finished bottle of red wine down the sink.

Mum worries to me on the phone that keto has no fibre. I assure her I’m managing the risk. For many, keto is synonymous with videos of grotesquely muscled men displaying chopping boards loaded with steak and sticks of butter. “Clean keto”, however, is mainly protein, leafy greens, low-carb veggies, and fats like olive oil, avocado and nuts. This is what we’re following.

I spend the morning Googling recipes beyond my formerly vegetarian go-tos of eggs on toast and stir-fried frozen veggies; mentally preparing to become an ingredient household.

Day 1: It’s recommended keto newbies begin by fasting to burn through glycogen (stored carbs). Having returned from a holiday of enthusiastically scoffing Ferrero Rochers and glazed Christmas ham, it’s a welcome chance for my digestive system to catch up on the back order of food. Thirty-six hours later, I make my first keto meal: mushrooms, spinach, half an avocado, and two eggs fried in plenty of olive oil. Apparently fat is now my friend. 

Day 2: Keto grocery shopping essentially involves filling a cart with all the foods driving New Zealand’s grocery inflation: dairy, meat, all the eggs they have, and fresh produce. We justify the bloated spend by rationalising that it’s offset by cuts to alcohol and takeaways (not that we can pop out to a Maccas in the wop-wops anyway), and we’re in the fortunate position of being able to supplement groceries with diving and hunting. 

Day 4: Top tip: don’t leave defrosting an entire chicken until a few hours before dinner, unless you want to eat at 11pm. 

Day 6: I emerge from the bathroom brandishing a paper strip I’ve peed on and announce, “It’s positive!” Not a pregnancy – ketones, chemicals produced by the liver when the body is in ketosis. I picture the microscopic ketones munching happily on my hips.

Day 8: The scales say I’ve lost 2kg already – possibly from the dehydration of peeing every 12 seconds. I was warned keto makes you shed “water weight”, but combined with the increased water intake I’m practically a hose.

Day 10: In my dream, I’m at a nice family dinner and scan the barcode of my favourite wine on My Fitness Pal app to see its (massive) carb count. Gutting.

Day 11: The worst aspect of keto? You’re not allowed milk. The best part? Cream is encouraged – and fuck drinking black coffee. 

Day 15: My coworkers are testing me. Every few hours, the smell of  freshly baked cookies wafts past me as the latest batch is ferried to the front counter to entice customers. “Triple chocolate with cinnamon and vanilla!” I tell them through gritted teeth.

Day 16: No diet is complete without an accompanying exercise regimen to get your steps in and lift heavy things. In our makeshift shed gym, Taine ambitiously decides he can do a pull-up as I straddle him. Snap! The rope attaching it to the ceiling breaks, and my back lands on a dumbbell – hard. As I recover from being winded, I reconsider the supposed “health benefits” of this new lifestyle.

Day 17: The algorithm has clocked me. It’s clogged with reels from @carnivoreconniseur that give recipes that look like they should contain carbs but don’t. And the best part? They’re so easy to make!

Day 18: A friend asks if they can have a look at the keto course – I’m officially part of a pyramid scheme.

Day 20: Try bone broth and feel like a Temu-Gwyneth Paltrow. 

Day 22: I’m at the tail-end of a day trip to the big smoke (Dunedin) and I practically crawl to the supermarket for a snack, saliva pooling in my mouth after a day spent ogling convenience food I very inconveniently can’t eat, and wishing I’d pocketed some boiled eggs from breakfast. 

Day 23: I’m slowly morphing into a Southland man devoted to meat and three veg. 

Day 26: At a BBQ, I hear two women talking about how ridiculous diet culture is after we (sadly) decline offers of chips and beers. I have to agree; keto can be socially weird. So far, we’ve sniffed bags of lollies, shamefully eaten stinky packed tuna lunches in public, and asked waiters what menu items contain zero carbs. Later, I ask Taine how the chip he accidentally ate was. “So good,” he replies.

Day 30: Development: boyfriend with a history of IBS is delighted to discover the advent of ghost poos (zero wiping required).

Day 31: Cheat day! On a family holiday, we treat ourselves to some fish and chips. I surprise myself by thinking I’d actually have rathered the zucchini fries we’ve been making at home.

Day 37: Good news: the food noise has dimmed, my brain is feeling clearer, and I just fit back into my favourite pair of workout leggings. Mint.

Day 43: All I want is a beer after a busy and hot day at work. I crack a keto cold one (kombucha), practically vortecky it, burp, and realise I was actually just thirsty and water would have sufficed. 

Day 48: Taine and I are a well-oiled machine in the kitchen as we whip up dinner for my visiting parents, having honed the choreography of this particular dance through our new evening routine: cooking with The Chase in the background, and announcing that this is the dish we would cook on My Kitchen Rules. It’s a basic skill, really, and I’m embarrassed to be so chuffed. But after years of grabbing a $7 sandwich for lunch and eating oats for dinner because I was “too busy”, I’m proud to be learning how to feed myself and my loved ones. And, of course, for Mum to admit she now “likes this whole keto thing”. 

And that, really, was the revelation. 50 days into our 75-day experiment, I’m not evangelical about keto, and certainly not any guidelines released by the US. There are valid arguments that say it’s irresponsible to be pushing animal-based protein when the Western world has been reducing emissions through Meatless Mondays, and it’s true there’s evidence that saturated fats are linked to cardiovascular disease. There is also disagreement between professionals and official advice about what constitutes a healthy diet varies between countries – New Zealand’s guidelines recommend eating a mix of fruit and vegetables, whole grains, reduced or low fat milk and protein via legumes, nuts, seeds, seafood, eggs or poultry and red meat with fat removed. 

But in a world where “health food” is packaged as protein bars, students live off two minute noodles, and home economics has been deemed unnecessary education, I’ve embraced the challenge of paying attention to what I put in my body.

It turns out that you can roll your eyes at a politician and still admit that, occasionally, they’ve stumbled onto something worth thinking about. Occasionally. 

New Zealand’s official dietary guidelines do not recommend keto. Full details of what is recommended are here.