Why I Care More About the How Than the What in Nutrition

The knowledge is important, but it’s the systems, habits, and strategies that turn that knowledge into lasting change.

I’m going to say something radical. Nutrition practice should be 10% what and 90% how.

In nutrition school, we’re taught to build our practice around the what of eating—what nutrients someone needs more of, what foods to add or remove, what plan will best support a diagnosis. We’re trained to look for gaps, deficiencies, and problems.

In my experience, the what is rarely the problem.

Generally speaking, people know what they should be eating. If you ask them how they could eat to better support their health, they’ll have ideas.

“I should eat more vegetables.”

“I need to cook at home more.”

“I probably need to cut back on caffeine.”

Sometimes the answer is spot-on. Sometimes it’s a little wobbly, shaped by the latest viral video or “miracle diet” post. But more often than not, the education piece—the knowledge—isn’t where people get stuck.

The real problem? The how.

Why We’re So Focused on the “What”

I think our field’s obsession with the what comes from how we’re trained. Nutrition providers are taught to follow a medical model: identify the problem, make a diagnosis, prescribe a solution. It makes sense for treating illness—if you have iron-deficiency anemia, you need more iron. If you have celiac disease, you need to avoid gluten.

But in day-to-day practice, for the vast majority of people, the struggle isn’t a lack of knowledge. It’s that life gets in the way of applying it.

The “what” is a clean, easy answer you can write in a plan or type into chart notes. The “how” is messy. It requires understanding a client’s life, schedule, stressors, access to food, cooking skills, support systems, and even their nervous system state.

In other words, the how requires stepping into the complexity of real life—something a diagnosis code can’t capture.

The Problem with “Food and Nutrition Knowledge Deficit”

Let’s talk about a common nutrition diagnosis for a moment. “Food and nutrition knowledge deficit” assumes that the reason someone isn’t eating in a way that supports their health is because they don’t know any better.

Sometimes, yes, knowledge gaps exist—especially for newly diagnosed conditions, people navigating dietary restrictions for the first time, or those with limited exposure to nutrition education. But in my practice, that’s not the norm.

Instead, I see clients who could probably teach a decent “Nutrition 101” class themselves. They know vegetables are good for them. They know they should be drinking water. They know deep-fried everything isn’t the path to longevity.

The barrier isn’t awareness—it’s integration.

When the “How” Is the Hard Part

I had a client once who knew exactly what she wanted to do: cook dinner at home three nights a week so she wasn’t exclusively relying on takeout. She even had a Pinterest board full of recipes. But between her commute, her kids’ sports schedules, and the fact that her kitchen knives were so dull they made chopping onions a battle, it just wasn’t happening.

Telling her what to eat wasn’t going to fix the problem. Helping her figure out how to make it work in her actual life did. We worked on batch-prepping a few ingredients on Sundays, keeping backup freezer meals for chaotic nights, and investing in a decent chef’s knife. The recipes weren’t revolutionary, but the shift in strategy made them possible.

This is where nutrition advice often fails. It stops at the “eat more vegetables” step without walking someone through the lived logistics of how to make that happen.

How Focusing on “How” Changes the Conversation

When we stop obsessing over what people eat and start getting curious about how they can eat in a way that works for them, the whole tone of a nutrition session changes.

• Instead of asking “how many servings of vegetables are you eating per day?” we might ask “what makes it easier for you to include vegetables in your meals?”

• Instead of asking “How many times a week do you eat out?” we might ask “when you eat out, what helps you feel your best afterward?”

• Instead of asking “are you drinking enough water?” we might ask “what strategies make it easier for you to remember to drink water during the day?”

These questions assume that people already know something about what works for them. And often, they do. They just haven’t had someone help them connect those dots in a way that feels doable.

The Social Media Factor

Of course, every now and then, someone comes in with a cockamamie idea about what they “should” be eating—thanks to TikTok, Instagram, or the latest celebrity wellness endorsement. (“I’m thinking about only eating raw celery for breakfast for the anti-inflammatory benefits.”)

Even here, the “how” conversation matters. Instead of swatting down the idea outright, we can explore it together:

• “What makes you think this would help?”

• “How would you work that into your mornings?”

• “What do you think you’d need to feel satisfied until lunch?”

The goal isn’t to endorse misinformation—it’s to meet the client where they are and guide them toward choices that are both grounded in evidence and workable in their actual lives.

Why the “How” Matters More Than the “What” for Long-Term Change

Knowledge without strategy doesn’t stick. We’ve all seen people leave an appointment with a beautifully detailed nutrition plan, only to abandon it a week later because it didn’t fit their reality.

The how matters because it’s:

• Personalized – It’s built for a specific person’s schedule, preferences, and constraints.

• Flexible – It can adapt when life throws curveballs.

• Sustainable – It accounts for energy levels, budget, cooking skills, and mental bandwidth.

A plan that focuses on how to make small, meaningful changes will outlast a perfect meal plan every single time.

Shifting Our Professional Mindset

If you’re a nutrition provider, I’d challenge you to notice how much of your time with clients is spent on the what versus the how.

We’re conditioned to believe that the more knowledge we give someone, the better the outcome will be. But without a plan for integrating that knowledge, it’s just another handout collecting dust in a kitchen drawer.

Imagine if “food and nutrition knowledge deficit” wasn’t our go-to diagnosis. Imagine if we had one called “food and nutrition implementation barrier” or even “food is hard because life gets life-ing.”

That diagnosis would push us to ask better questions and design better strategies—ones that honor the messy realities of daily life.

The Bottom Line

The truth is, nutrition is maybe 10% about what you eat and 90% about how you make it happen in your real life. The knowledge is important, but it’s the systems, habits, and strategies that turn that knowledge into lasting change.

The next time you find yourself stuck, don’t just ask, “What should I be eating?” Ask, “How can I make the eating I want to do actually work for me?”

That’s where the magic happens.