The Triangle editors were concerned for my health, and rightfully so. To heighten whatever placebo effect I’d incur, I spent the weekend before the initial start date on a McDonald’s binge (double cheeseburgers, several boxes of 20-piece Chicken McNuggets) and sleeping crooked in armchairs to exacerbate any knee pain I’d experience in the morning. For the project, I purchased about four pounds of beef bones (marrow and knuckle bones) from grass-fed cows, two and a half pounds of sugar-free and nitrate-free bacon, assorted cuts of grass-fed beef, and several packages of pastured butter. Following those three tenets (butter, bacon, bone broth), I designed a diet based on the Lakers’ PRO Nutrition plan to follow for a week into the new year. From an interview with DiFrancesco last July: “Contrary to what people might think, we actually want our players to eat as much grass fed butter and bacon as we can get into them.”Īnother pillar in the Lakers’ diet is bone broth (marrow bones and bones from cartilage-rich areas like joints and knuckles simmered in water with aromatics for 12-plus hours), which helps fortify the tendons and ligaments. Cate Shanahan and implemented by Lakers strength and conditioning coach “Grass-fed” Tim DiFrancesco, places a heavy emphasis on good fats because, according to the two, it’s the most efficient source of energy for the body. Like, “they practically freebase them,” says Berger. Extolling the virtues of eating well isn’t a brand-new concept for NBA teams, but the specific guidelines the Lakers follow made the story a hit. Last month, CBS Sports’ Ken Berger launched an excellent series of articles on nutrition in the NBA, kicking it off with a deep dive into the nutrition program the Lakers have implemented over the last two seasons.
They inevitably fizzle out because you never ever really get over the torture - and what is “better” anyway? This. New Year’s resolutions are supposed to be torturous affairs, aiming to break you down before building you back up into a better person. Once the solids faded from view, I flipped the steak again, and repeated the process. I took a step back and watched it slowly melt away with that same sickening grin on my face.
I flipped the steak, now sporting a nice, hard dark-brown crust, and plopped a pat of butter on it. No steak I have ever seared was treated the way I was going to treat this one. I flashed a devious grin as my second steak of the day hissed and crackled on the cast-iron skillet.
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