Kitchen gadgets review: Nutribullet – the conversational mainstay of fitness bores

Rhik Samadder tests the Nutribullet
Rhik Samadder tests the Nutribullet. Photograph: Sarah Lee/Guardian


The Nutribullet Graphite (, £99.99), a high-torque power base that drives rotating blades within a fuselage canteen. Used primarily to mix fruits and greens into a nutritious emulsion.


Because there’s a revolution on, you solid-food-eating, inguinal-crease-lacking, old-school sucker.


The Nutribullet

Like a maître d’s nightmare, I come to the Nutribullet late, and with reservations. For months, people have been preaching to me about this. “So, it’s a blender?” I ask. “Nooooo. A nutrition extractor. It makes the vitamins in pulp and seeds bioavailable,” they howl, which makes me think someone is filling the damn things with Kool-Aid. They are the conversational mainstay of fitness bores, who see food as fuel and wish meals came in pill form.

See, a “Nutriblast” is 50% greens, 50% whole fruits, plus a “boost” of seeds, nuts, matcha powder, unicorn shavings, whatever, all blitzed into an on-the-go meal replacement. Which means losing texture, colour and individuated flavours. I managed to turn a gorgeous heap of kale, strawberries, blueberries and nectarine into something that looked like I’d dragged a sieve through the Thames. And it’s infantilising. Declaring that you live off smoothies is like begging someone to take away your vote.

And yet … a week later, I’m still using it. Why? It’s one of the most convenient kitchen gadgets ever created. The vertical design is sleek, with a small footprint and solid build quality. It has precisely zero buttons. Washing up is extraordinarily minimal: mixing containers double as drinking cups, so run the screw-off blade under the tap and you’re done.

I start to tailor my ingredients, swapping water for almond milk, or adding mango, kiwi, and topping up with frozen berries, which are more affordable and refreshing. A sprig of mint for lift, and it’s a perfect summer refresher. Plus, a morning Nutriblast feels like finishing homework on Friday night: having got my five-a-day all at once, who’s to say I can’t just eat lollies for the rest of the day (apart from every nutritionist on the planet)?

A blender this useful is too good to be co-opted by the spirulina snorters. Here’s what Nutri-dullards aren’t telling you – it’s not for healthy people. It’s for incredibly lazy people. I’ll drink to that, any day.

Rhik necks his Nutriblast
Rhik necks his Nutriblast. Photograph: Sarah Lee/Guardian

Any downside?

Even cyclonic extraction blades can’t make that price tag any more digestible.

Counter, drawer, back of the cupboard?

Counter. Or in the hall, so you can start talking about it as soon as anyone enters your house.