Honest Review: The Carnivore Code Cookbook by Dr Paul Saladino

Review Summary

The Carnivore Code Cookbook makes a bold promise—that by removing all plant foods and focusing on meat (especially organ meats), you can resolve everything from brain fog to eczema to autoimmune disease. The author, Paul Saladino MD (aka Carnivore MD), a trained physician with a personal health journey, positions this animal-based approach as the most “species-appropriate” diet for humans, rooted in evolutionary history and optimized for modern ailments.

The author opens with his frustration prescribing meds that didn’t work—both for his patients and for his own long-standing eczema. This led him to pursue a root-cause approach. But instead of a science-backed deep dive, the book quickly veers into evolutionary storytelling, cherry-picked tribal eating habits, and wildly extrapolated claims dressed up as settled science.

If you’re carnivore-curious and want to hear from someone who’s clearly walking the path and benefited, this book might be worth skimming. But if you’re looking for a balanced root-cause strategy that takes microbiome science and long term dietary health seriously—this probably isn’t it.

✅ Pros

  1. Compelling personal recovery story
  2. Helpful organ meat and nutrition guide
  3. Valid critique of seed oils and processed foods

❌ Cons

  1. Cherry-picked and oversimplified science
  2. Overstated claims about plant toxicity
  3. Neglects microbiome and fiber research

My Full Review

The Carnivore Code Cookbook by Dr Paul Saladino

Dr Paul Saladino’s journey is compelling—he went from chronic eczema to healing himself through dietary experimentation. But where his story shines, his science stumbles. The book leans heavily on evolutionary theory to make sweeping “scientific” claims: that humans are evolved to eat animals, that all plants (except fruits) have evolved to be toxic, and that eating “nose-to-tail” is the secret to optimal health.

The structure blends personal anecdotes, speculative anthropology, and cookbook-style guidance. There’s a lot of repetition, and many of the claims are backed by loose correlations or incomplete citations. While there are nuggets of truth—like the issues with seed oils and processed carbs—these are buried beneath a narrative that often oversimplifies or distorts the little research there is to fit the carnivore mold.

Core Framework or Recommendations

  • Eliminate all plant foods (especially leaves, seeds, roots)
  • Eat “nose-to-tail” with organic, grass fed, locally sourced meats: include organ meats daily
  • Avoid seed oils, processed carbs, and alcohol
  • Optionally reintroduce “least toxic” plant foods like fruit and honey
  • Use a 30–90 day “Clean Carnivore Reset” as an elimination protocol

What’s Actually Useful

This is where the book shines:

Organ meat breakdowns are one of the book’s stronger points, especially for readers who are curious but hesitant about the idea of “nose-to-tail” eating. Saladino doesn’t just tell you that liver is good for you—he explains why, walking through the specific nutrients each organ provides, from the heme iron and selenium in spleen to the CoQ10 in heart and the immune-supporting peptides in sweetbreads.

He even includes practical tips for preparation and sourcing, along with fallback options like desiccated organ supplements for the squeamish. As he puts it,

“Though meat is incredibly nutritious, the nutrient composition of organs like heart, liver, spleen, kidney, and sweetbreads is unmatched.”

If you’ve been meaning to try organs but needed a nudge or a guide, this part of the book really delivers.

The meal planning, prep tips, and recipes offer a helpful on-ramp for those experimenting with carnivore or animal-based eating. While the first third of the book reads like a manifesto ( or “code” using his words), the later chapters shift toward the kitchen—outlining cooking methods (like salting, trussing, and blooming gelatin), flavor pairings with “low-toxicity” fruits, and even batch cooking ideas.

The recipes are appealingly straightforward—things like “Loaded Carnivore Smash Burgers” and “Yogurt Cheesecake with Blueberry-Lemon Compote”—and make the diet feel more sustainable than extreme.

Lastly, Saladino’s criticism of seed oils and refined sugars is well-founded and worth paying attention to. He’s far from alone in calling out the damage these foods can cause—especially their role in promoting inflammation, oxidative stress, and insulin resistance. “Processed seed oils and sugar are consistently linked to chronic disease,” he writes, pointing to the dramatic rise in PUFA consumption over the last century and its correlation with metabolic dysfunction.

While many of his conclusions clearly stretch the data, his message here is on target: the modern diet has veered too far from real food, and ditching seed oils and added sugars is a powerful first step toward healing.


Where the Book Misses the Mark

He knows about the microbiome—but conveniently skips the human kind. At one point, Saladino highlights the importance of the soil microbiome and its relationship to regenerative agriculture, showing he understands the concept. But when it comes to the human microbiome—particularly the role of dietary fiber in producing short-chain fatty acids (SCFAs), regulating immunity, and supporting gut-brain signaling—he’s completely silent.

The only nod he gives, in passing, is a weak justification that collagen-rich parts of animals like tendons, cartilage, and bones may offer limited fiber-like effects—an idea not backed by robust evidence. This omission feels intentional, because the research directly contradicts his carnivore narrative.

If you’re asking readers to eliminate the vast majority of fiber-rich plant foods, you need to explain what that does to gut bacteria and long-term digestive health. Instead, the book leaves the impression that meat alone is nutritionally complete and microbiome-neutral—a claim that doesn’t hold up to modern science.

Many of the evolutionary claims made in the book are oversimplified or just speculative. Take this statement: “While Homo habilis continued to thrive and eventually evolved into Homo erectus and our Homo sapiens ancestors, Paranthropus’s time on this earth was limited, eventually ending in extinction, likely due to an inability to obtain adequate sustenance without significant animal foods in the diet.”

That’s a huge leap. After reading the studies he references, it’s clear there were dietary differences between early hominid lineages—Homo habilis likely consumed more meat than Paranthropus. But using that to argue that Paranthropus went extinct because it didn’t eat enough meat is a textbook case of overstating limited data.

Likewise, the claim that our brains “quadrupled in size thanks to eating liver and spleen” makes for a punchy narrative—but that level of specificity goes far beyond what the paleontological evidence can actually support.

The book leans heavily on fear-based language around plant toxicity. Saladino labels everyday foods like spinach, sweet potatoes, and even spices as toxic or “immune triggering”—not due to individual sensitivities, but because of so-called “natural defense compounds” developed over millions of years.

While plants do contain substances like oxalates, lectins, and glycoalkaloids, these are generally harmless—or even beneficial—when properly cooked and eaten in moderation. Considering billions of people have consumed these foods for generations without issue, calling them toxic is more than a little extreme.

The Carnivore Code Diet

Blanket warnings like “give those highly defended leafy greens a pass!” aren’t just misleading—they risk pushing readers into unnecessary restriction. This is especially hard to take seriously when Blue Zone populations—some of the longest-living and healthiest in the world—eat these exact foods daily. As I noted in my Gut Check review, their diets have been studied extensively, and the benefits of plant diversity are well-documented.

And if this is truly the best defense that edible plants can muster—causing vague, delayed symptoms that most people wouldn’t even link to food—it’s got to be the worst toxin ever. From an evolutionary perspective, a real threat would cause something immediate and unmistakable or at the very least try being lest tasty! In either event, a “toxin” that billions consume daily without harm doesn’t exactly make a strong case for danger.

And finally, despite warning readers not to confuse correlation with causation, the book repeatedly does just that. Saladino critiques weak epidemiology—the study of population-level health patterns—using the infamous Nicolas Cage drowning meme to mock absurd statistical associations. (In case you haven’t seen it, the meme shows a near-perfect correlation between the number of Nicolas Cage films released in a given year and the number of people who drowned by falling into pools—clearly unrelated events.)

It’s a fair critique of lazy data interpretation. But then he turns around and draws sweeping conclusions from anecdotal recoveries and fossil record correlations, treating them as proof rather than hypothesis, without offering stronger or more controlled evidence.

For instance, he cites an Aborigine study to imply that animal foods alone reversed diabetes, even though—after reviewing the study—it’s clear they ate both animal and plant foods as part of a traditional lifestyle. These kinds of selective readings weaken what could have been a more grounded critique of modern dietary guidelines.


Final Thoughts on the The Carnivore Code Book

I don’t doubt that Saladino resolved his eczema through this diet. Food sensitivities are real, and by cutting out large categories of foods, he likely avoided the culprits. I also believe others dealing with chronic symptoms—especially from inflammation or intolerance—might feel better following this approach.

Notably, he places a strong emphasis on sourcing: grass-fed meats, organic produce, and farm-raised foods. That alone is a massive departure from the standard highly Western diet. Frankly, I’d expect almost anyone to feel better making that shift—regardless of whether they cut out plants. But that doesn’t make it a long-term solution.

At its core, this is symptom management—not root-cause healing. It sidesteps the hard truth that we have a microbiome, and that microbial diversity plays a central role in digestion, immunity, and overall health. Eliminating fiber-rich plant foods may reduce symptoms in the short term, but over time, it risks gut damage that’s harder to reverse. That concern isn’t just theoretical—studies consistently link low fiber and high meat intake with reduced microbiome diversity and significant long-term metabolic consequences.

I chose to review The Carnivore Code because its growing base of vocal supporters often push it as a universal fix for many things, including reflux. While I can see its appeal for those feeling let down by conventional advice, the long-term risks are rarely part of the conversation.

The Carnivore Code is part nutrition manifesto, part personal healing journey, and part cookbook. It’s passionate, provocative, and clearly written with conviction. But that conviction often overshadows nuance. The diet may help some in the short term, but it’s not a one-size-fits-all solution—and its rejection of plant nutrients, fiber, and microbiome science leaves it incomplete.

Use it as a reference if you’re exploring nose-to-tail eating—but take the claims with a grain of salt (and maybe a side of highly evolved toxic sauerkraut if your gut allows it).

For a more balanced, root-cause approach, I’d recommend Why Stomach Acid is Good for You or checking out my own book that’s focused on healing reflux naturally.


This content is for informational purposes only and is not medical advice. Consult your physician for personalized care.

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