Whey, the watery runoff left after cheese sets, used to be treated as refuse. Today it has become the star ingredient in protein powders gulped by weight‑lifters and people on Ozempic alike.
Ken Heiman, a certified Master Cheesemaker at Nasonville Dairy in Marshfield, Wisconsin, still prides himself on flavorful Cheddar and Gouda. Yet he admits the plant’s profits now flow far more from whey than from Colby blocks.
Nasonville turns out roughly 150 000 pounds of cheese every day, but those 40‑pound Cheddar blocks barely cover costs. The real moneymaker is the liquid left behind. “Shoppers grabbing whey protein at Aldi are keeping our lights on,” Mr. Heiman jokes.
Ounce for ounce, whey delivers high protein with few calories—perfect for trends that urge Americans to eat more protein for muscle gain, healthy aging, Keto-style diets, or, most recently, to prevent muscle loss while taking GLP‑1 weight‑loss drugs.
Analysts value the U.S. whey‑protein market at $5–10 billion and expect it to double within a decade. Premium powders that cost $3 a pound in 2020 now fetch nearly $10.
In the 1960s whey was dumped in rivers, spread on fields, or fed to pigs. Today, according to consultant Mike McCully, some plants earn more from whey than from the cheese itself.
The story starts with cows at Norm‑E‑Lane, a 2 500‑cow operation run by third‑generation dairyman Josh Meissner near Chili, Wisconsin. Every day the farm ships 200 000 pounds of milk to Nasonville Dairy, yet has little say in the price it receives.
Federal formulas set a monthly base price for milk. In the early 2000s whey represented under 3 percent of a farmer’s milk check; since 2021 it has averaged nearly 9 percent and sometimes tops 10 percent, cushioning farmers against stubbornly low milk prices.
Milk arrives at Nasonville, is pasteurized, cultured and coagulated, then pressed into curds. Ten pounds of milk yield one pound of cheese, leaving vast quantities of liquid that run through a maze of stainless‑steel pipes to separate cream and lactose. What remains is whey at roughly 12 percent protein, further filtered to about 65 percent.
Large West Coast plants own spray dryers that turn concentrated whey into powder. Smaller Midwestern makers instead send tankers to specialty processors—such as Actus Nutrition—that evaporate the liquid and boost protein content. U.S. output of high‑protein whey powder rose from 8 million pounds in 2003 to 48 million pounds in May 2025, a surge fueled by anti‑obesity drugs.
As new cheese‑and‑whey plants come online, prices will eventually fall. To stay ahead, the Meissners are diversifying into Angus beef, while Mr. Heiman courts niche markets with cheeses big factories cannot replicate, like ghost‑pepper Jack. In commodity agriculture, extraordinary returns never last forever—but for now, whey is king.
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