The Paleo Diet: Between Myth and Reality

# THE PALEO DIET: OK… LET’S ASSUME

**by Laurent Glatz – for Athletic Carnivore**

Someone explained something to me.

Apparently, we should eat like our Paleolithic ancestors.

Because our ancestors, they knew how to eat.

Ah.

Alright.

First of all, I’d like to know exactly how we know what Marcel Neanderthal ate on a Tuesday night 50,000 years ago.

But apparently, we do know.

We found tartar on his teeth.

There you go.

The guy died 50,000 years ago, left us no food diary, no MyFitnessPal, no photo of his plate…

But he forgot to brush his teeth.

And luckily.

Because now, thanks to his tartar, we can organize our diet in 2026.

Okay…

**Let’s assume.**

First thing: we have to admit we found the right Neanderthal.

Because there were quite a few of them.

But by extraordinary luck, we obviously didn’t find Kevin Neanderthal.

The guy who ate just anything.

No.

We must have found **Jean-Michel Neanderthal, the tribe’s nutritionist**.

The serious guy.

Balanced meals.

No slip-ups.

No hangovers.

No three days eating disgusting roots because the mammoth decided to take a vacation.

No.

His tartar necessarily represents his optimal diet.

Okay.

**Let’s assume.**

Now, we also have to accept that what we find on his teeth truly represents everything he ate.

Because dental tartar can preserve micro-remains, DNA, and other food traces.

It’s fascinating for reconstructing part of his environment and diet.

Part.

Not necessarily his full menu over thirty years.

But okay.

Let’s assume this little piece of biological archive is the full receipt from the Neanderthal supermarket.

**Let’s assume.**

Now we have to pick THE Neanderthal.

And here it gets interesting.

Because when we analyze Neanderthals found in Belgium, at Spy, we find a diet heavily focused on meat, including woolly rhinoceros and mouflon.

Very good.

Finally!

The paleo diet!

Except that at El Sidrón, in Spain, we find something else: mushrooms, pine nuts, and various plant resources.

Ah.

So already, Neanderthals apparently didn’t get the same nutrition PDF.

The Belgian was on:

"Rhinoceros all you can eat."

The Spaniard:

"Today, a little sauté of mushrooms and pine nuts."

Archaeological data indeed show a much greater dietary diversity than the simplistic image of a single "Neanderthal diet."

But okay.

We’ll say they all ate the same.

**Let’s assume.**

Now we also have to accept that eating something means that thing is optimal for health.

Because that’s also magnificent.

We find proof that a prehistoric man ate something.

So:

YOU MUST EAT IT.

Why?

Because he ate it.

Very well.

But maybe he ate it simply because otherwise…

**he would have starved.**

The guy didn’t exactly have a Carrefour Market 700 meters away.

He wasn’t going to say:

"Oh no, sorry, tonight the reindeer is a bit too skinny, I’ll wait for my Chronofresh delivery."

He ate what the environment allowed him to eat.

Surviving is not the same as optimizing nutrition.

But okay.

Let’s say every food consumed out of necessity was automatically excellent.

**Let’s assume.**

Next, another detail.

The climate.

Because Neanderthal didn’t live in a small air-conditioned studio at 22 degrees with a car, Netflix, and 4,000 steps a day.

Neanderthal populations occupied extremely different environments, with different food availabilities.

Studies on their food ecology indicate precisely that the use of plants and animals varied with the environment.

But it’s not a problem.

We’ll take the diet of an individual living in an icy steppe…

and apply it to Michel, an accountant in Lyon.

Michel gets up at 7:30 a.m.

Neanderthal had to go hunt 400 kilos of rhinoceros.

Same energy expenditure.

Same environment.

Same stress.

Same light.

Same seasonality.

Same available food.

Exactly the same.

**Let’s assume.**

But now comes another little problem.

Because when we say:

"Eat like in the Paleolithic,"

which moment of the Paleolithic are we talking about?

Because it lasted several hundred thousand years.

And which region?

Africa?

Europe?

Near East?

Cold climate?

Warm climate?

Seaside?

Forest?

Steppe?

So let’s simplify.

All prehistoric humans, everywhere on Earth, for hundreds of thousands of years, had the same menu.

**Let’s assume.**

Now we still have to decide which modern foods are "paleo."

And here, I love it.

Supermarket almonds: paleo.

Avocado selected over generations: paleo.

Modern banana: paleo.

Vegetables resulting from thousands of years of human selection: paleo.

Oil bottled with industrial extraction: sometimes paleo.

But milk?

FORBIDDEN!

Why?

Because dairy farming came later.

Ah.

So suddenly, human evolution stopped at the Paleolithic.

End of story.

Curtain.

After that, Homo sapiens didn’t evolve genetically anymore.

Except that precisely, lactase persistence in some populations is a classic example of coevolution between diet and human genetics after the development of dairy farming.

So humans kept adapting.

Oh crap.

Okay.

**Let’s assume it didn’t continue evolving when it suits us.**

And then there’s another delightful problem.

We often talk about "our ancestors’ diet."

But Neanderthal isn’t just our great-great-great-grandfather with a big forehead.

Neanderthal is a distinct human population with which Homo sapiens interbred.

So already, taking "Neanderthal" and then directly explaining:

"Here’s what modern humans ate"

requires some shortcuts.

But okay.

**Let’s assume.**

Let’s assume we found the right individual.

Let’s assume his tartar represents his entire diet.

Let’s assume he ate exactly what was in his tartar every day.

Let’s assume what he ate was chosen to optimize his health and not just to survive.

Let’s assume all Neanderthals ate the same.

Let’s assume environment didn’t matter.

Let’s assume season didn’t matter.

Let’s assume food availability didn’t matter.

Let’s assume several hundred thousand years can be summarized in a single menu.

Let’s assume modern foods resemble the wild foods of that time.

Let’s assume human evolution stopped exactly when it suits us.

Let’s assume what worked for a prehistoric hunter-gatherer necessarily works for an office worker in 2026.

Then…

Yes.

We might be able to start talking about **THE paleo diet**.

Otherwise, maybe we should consider a much less spectacular hypothesis:

**our ancestors were above all extremely adaptable organisms who ate what their environment allowed them to eat.**

And that, biologically, is much more interesting.

Because instead of trying to reproduce the imaginary plate of a man who died 50,000 years ago, we can start by looking at what humans are capable of digesting, using, and metabolizing.

And especially what **your body**, today, truly tolerates.

That’s where Athletic Carnivore’s logic differs from a food religion.

The fact that a food is ancestral doesn’t automatically make it suitable for everyone.

The fact that a food is modern doesn’t automatically make it bad.

The fact that Neanderthal ate something doesn’t mean you have to eat it.

And vice versa.

What matters is not playing Neanderthal in a kitchen equipped with an American fridge.

What matters is understanding biology.

Your digestion.

Your blood sugar.

Your satiety.

Your physical activity.

Your dietary history.

Your individual response.

Because ultimately, the most extraordinary thing in this story might not be that we found what Neanderthal ate.

It’s that we can find three molecules in his tartar…

and, 50,000 years later, invent an entire diet around it.

Okay.

**Let’s assume.**

But before eating like Neanderthal, maybe we should start by knowing if **your own body agrees with the program.**

**Understanding my dietary terrain**

#Paleo #PaleoDiet #Neanderthal #Nutrition #HumanEvolution #Diet #Carnivore #LowCarb #Metabolism #AthleticCarnivore