Nina Teicholz’s The Big Fat Surprise opens with a tantalizing premise: What if everything we’ve been told about fat in our diets is wrong? With bold assertions and a hefty dose of investigative bravado, Teicholz promises to upend decades of nutritional orthodoxy. And for a moment, she almost pulls it off. Almost. But upon closer inspection, The Big Fat Surprise reveals itself as a buffet of cherry-picked studies, logical leaps, and sweeping generalizations, leaving the reader less with a paradigm shift and more with a lingering sense of indigestion.
The Science: Selectively Served
Teicholz’s central thesis — that saturated fat is not the dietary villain it has been made out to be — rests on a foundation of studies that challenge conventional wisdom. To her credit, she brings to light some genuine inconsistencies and flaws in the historical data that led to the demonization of fat. The now famous Seven Countries Study by Ancel Keys, for instance, does deserve scrutiny for its methodological limitations and potential biases. But Teicholz’s treatment of this and other studies is hardly impartial. She has a habit of presenting findings that support her argument as gospel while dismissing contrary evidence as part of a grand nutritional conspiracy.
Her reliance on outdated studies and her selective interpretation of modern research undermine her credibility. For example, she often cites small, observational studies or those with questionable relevance to modern dietary patterns. At the same time, she ignores large-scale, rigorous meta-analyses that contradict her conclusions. It’s as if she’s hosting a dinner party and only inviting guests who agree with her, while leaving the dissenters standing out in the cold. Take, for instance, her repeated invocation of studies on Inuit populations and their high-fat diets. While these studies continue to be widely parroted, unfortunately for Teicholz’s argument, they are outdated, based on myths, and have been debunked for decades — it turns out that the Eskimos are just as plagued by heart disease, stroke, and reduced lifespan as other populations eating a meat-centric diet, both now and historically.
A Conspiracy Theory in a Lab Coat
One of the book’s more eyebrow-raising features is its pervasive conspiratorial tone. Teicholz paints a dramatic picture of scientists, government officials, and food industry executives conspiring to push a low-fat, high-carb agenda, allegedly ignoring or suppressing evidence to the contrary. While it’s true that political and industry influences have shaped dietary guidelines, her depiction often strays into the realm of caricature. Ancel Keys, for instance, is portrayed less as a controversial but highly regarded, influential scientist and more as a cartoonish villain masterminding a nutritional cover-up. Notably, this narrative — like many of the anecdotes and arguments in her book — is heavily borrowed from fellow low-carb advocate and journalist Gary Taubes, adding little originality to her dramatic framing.
The problem with this approach is that it oversimplifies a deeply intricate story. Yes, nutritional science has its flaws, but it’s also a field that evolves through debate, research, and revision. By framing the issue as a black-and-white battle between truth-telling rebels and corrupt bureaucrats, Teicholz undermines the reader’s ability to engage critically with the material. Moreover, her insinuations of widespread corruption lack the evidence to back up such sweeping claims, often relying on innuendo rather than hard proof. This approach feels more like a plot device than serious investigative journalism.
Here it’s worth repeating that Ancel Keys, who is vilified by Nina Teicholz and Gary Taubes (both journalists), was a highly regarded medical scientist with a Ph.D. in biology from UC Berkeley and a Ph.D. in physiology from Cambridge. Along with a team of researchers, he studied the connections between diet and heart disease around the world for decades. He is credited with popularizing the health and longevity benefits of the traditional Mediterranean diet, which to this day is widely considered one of the healthiest dietary patterns. Following his own dietary recommendations, Ancel Keys lived to be 100 years old. He died just two months short of his 101st birthday. In case you are wondering, just 0.03% — three hundredths of a percent — of the U.S. population currently reaches age 100. Not bad for a guy who, according to Teicholz and Taubes, got things completely wrong about diet and health!
Writing Style: More Fat Than Substance
Teicholz’s writing has a lively, journalistic quality that makes her book engaging and easy to read. However, her tendency toward dramatic storytelling often sacrifices complexity. She resembles a food blogger declaring their grandmother’s lasagna as “the best in the world” while disregarding the diversity of global cuisines. Her anecdotes about Inuit diets, French culinary traditions, and the advent of Crisco are compelling but frequently oversimplified or misleading. For example, her idealized portrayal of the “French Paradox” overlooks critical lifestyle factors like portion sizes, alcohol consumption, physical activity, and more recent analyses. French culture emphasizes moderation as much as it celebrates butter, and research shows that their unhealthy eating habits in fact only increased in recent decades. Under modern, rigorous scrutiny, the so-called “French Paradox” has largely been debunked.
The book also suffers from a lack of editorial restraint. At nearly 500 pages, it’s an overstuffed platter of repetition and tangents. By the time Teicholz revisits her critique of dietary guidelines for the umpteenth time, the reader may find themselves longing for a palate cleanser. Her attempts to frame each chapter as a dramatic revelation often come across as redundant, and the repetition makes her arguments feel more like a relentless sales pitch than a thoughtful exploration.
Humor and Hyperbole: A Double-Edged Sword
Teicholz’s attempts at humor and vivid imagery occasionally land, but more often they come across as forced or distracting. Her descriptions of margarine as “pale, quivering blocks of despair” are amusing at first but wear thin after repeated use. Similarly, her jabs at the “low-fat mafia” feel more like stand-up comedy than serious critique. While a touch of levity can make complex topics more accessible, Teicholz’s over-reliance on hyperbole undermines the seriousness of her argument. The result is a tone that often feels condescending, as if the reader must be coaxed into agreement with theatrical flourishes rather than substantive debate.
The Ethical Dimension: Missing the Mark
One of the book’s glaring omissions is its failure to address the ethical and environmental implications of promoting a diet rich in animal fats. In an era when concern about the deforestation, industrial pollution, and animal exploitation inherent in factory farming are increasingly urgent, Teicholz’s uncritical endorsement of meat-heavy diets feels tone-deaf. While she briefly mentions that grass-fed and pasture-raised options are preferable, she offers no meaningful engagement with the broader sustainability and ethical issues at stake. Her silence on these matters is particularly striking given the growing body of evidence linking industrial animal agriculture to animal cruelty, environmental issues, and biodiversity loss.
Moreover, her enthusiastic endorsement of saturated fat comes with little acknowledgment of its potential downsides. While she’s quick to dismiss decades of studies that link saturated fat to heart disease, she fails to address the nuances of these findings or the ongoing debates within the scientific community. For instance, while some research questions the strength of the connection between saturated fat and cardiovascular risk, these studies have been criticized for either replacing saturated fats in the diet with even unhealthier foods, or comparing levels of saturated fat consumption that aren’t meaningful enough to show a health benefit (i.e., very high with moderately high), yet these important caveats are often lost in the headlines. Teicholz also neglects to explore how saturated fat interacts with other dietary factors, such as fiber intake, types of carbohydrates consumed, and overall caloric balance, which can significantly influence health outcomes.
Furthermore, her dismissal of these studies lacks acknowledgment of methodological advances in nutrition science, such as the use of randomized controlled trials and meta-analyses, which provide a more robust framework for assessing dietary impacts. By omitting these considerations, she fails to offer a comprehensive alternative framework for understanding the intricate relationships between saturated fat, elevated LDL cholesterol, and cardiovascular health. This gap leaves her argument feeling not only incomplete and one-sided but also disconnected from the broader, evolving body of scientific evidence. Without addressing these complexities, her advocacy for saturated fat comes across as overly simplistic and potentially misleading.
Reality Check: Overconsumption of Saturated Fats Are Still Unhealthy
Contrary to Teicholz’s claims, the overconsumption of saturated fat (greater than ~10% of daily calories) remains a significant health concern, as evidenced by the latest research in nutritional science. While saturated fats are not the sole dietary villain they were once made out to be, excessive intake can still negatively impact cardiovascular health. Studies published in recent years, including meta-analyses in journals like The Lancet and Circulation, have shown that diets high in saturated fat can raise LDL cholesterol levels, a well-established risk factor for heart disease. More recent evidence from studies using Mendelian randomization, published after Teicholz’s book, further support LDL cholesterol, elevated by saturated fat consumption, as a causal factor in heart disease.
Importantly, this relationship is particularly concerning when saturated fats displace unsaturated fats, such as those found in nuts, seeds, fish, and olive oil, which are shown to have protective effects on heart health. Additionally, diets rich in saturated fat are often associated with an increased intake of processed and red meats, which carry their own health risks, including links to inflammation and colorectal cancer. And finally, diets high in saturated fat have been linked to a variety of other negative health outcomes, such as type 2 diabetes and cognitive impairment. Multiple studies have found a connection between saturated fat intake and an increased risk of dementia and Alzheimer’s disease. For example, the Chicago Health and Aging Project found a positive association between saturated fat intake and the risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease. Thus, promoting the excessive consumption of saturated fats as entirely harmless disregards the broader body of evidence and oversimplifies the complex interplay of nutrients in a healthy diet.
Conclusion: A Fatally Flawed Feast
The Big Fat Surprise is not totally without merit. It raises questions about the history of nutritional science and challenges readers to think critically about dietary dogma. However, its flaws — “cherry picked” selective evidence, conspiratorial tone, lack of nuance, and ethical blind spots — ultimately outweigh its contributions. Teicholz invites us to reconsider our relationship with fat, but her invitation feels more like a meat and dairy industry high-pressure sales pitch than an open dialogue.
Nutritional science is inherently complex, a reality that journalists like Teicholz and Taubes often manipulate to their advantage. The field is rife with outdated, poorly designed, or agenda-driven studies, making it easy to cherry-pick evidence to support controversial or contrarian claims. By presenting a narrow selection of facts or highlighting only one side of a nuanced debate, they craft compelling narratives that play on themes of “good versus evil” and sensationalize alleged conspiracies to suppress the truth. This emotionally charged storytelling may captivate readers, but it ultimately oversimplifies the science and undermines critical understanding.
For readers seeking a more balanced exploration of dietary science, there are better options on the shelf. The Big Fat Surprise is a reminder that in the world of nutrition, as in life, the simplest answers are often too good to be true. And as Teicholz might say, sometimes the fattiest meals leave you feeling the emptiest. The book’s core message — that we should rethink our dietary norms — is important, but it is ultimately overshadowed by its sensationalism and shortcomings. Perhaps the real surprise is just how much this book over-promises and under-delivers.
