The parts we abandon might be the most valuable things we could eat
For generations, the bones and feet of a chicken were never wasted — they were transformed, slowly and deliberately, into something that healed. Nutritionist Pablo Ojeda reminds us that in discarding these parts, we have quietly abandoned one of the most nutrient-dense foods available, one that speaks directly to the biological challenges of aging. The collagen, glycine, and proline locked inside what we now call scraps are precisely what the body needs after forty — for joints, for gut health, for the slow work of repair. What was once common knowledge has become, in the age of supplements, a forgotten inheritance.
- Every day, millions of people throw away the most nutritionally complete parts of the chicken — the carcass and feet — without a second thought.
- After forty, the body's collagen production declines, and with it comes a cascade of familiar troubles: stiff joints, sluggish digestion, creeping inflammation.
- The supplement industry has stepped into this gap with capsules and powders, but nutritionist Pablo Ojeda argues that a pot of simmering bones does the job better — and for almost nothing.
- Bone broth delivers collagen, glycine, proline, and minerals in a form the body already knows how to use, unlike isolated nutrients engineered for convenience.
- The solution is not new — it is ancient, cost-effective, and sitting in the bin: a few hours of heat and water turning discarded bones into something genuinely therapeutic.
Most people throw away the best part of the chicken without a second thought. The carcass and feet go straight to the bin — a habit so ingrained it no longer feels like a choice. Nutritionist Pablo Ojeda has spent years studying what we discard, and his conclusion is pointed: the parts we abandon may be among the most valuable things we could eat.
Chicken breast, the cut we prize, is lean protein — but it is incomplete. The skeletal parts and connective tissue hold something breast meat simply does not: collagen, glycine, proline, and minerals that emerge when bones are simmered slowly in water. The resulting broth is not a trend. It is what humans have made for generations — a meal that nourished and healed at the same time.
Ojeda is particularly focused on people past forty, when the body's own collagen production begins to fall. Digestion slows, joints ache, inflammation settles in. These are connected problems, rooted in part in the gradual loss of collagen and the deterioration of gut health that comes with age. Bone broth addresses the mechanism — not as a miracle, but as real food delivering compounds the body already recognizes.
What makes his argument especially sharp is the economics. The bones and feet that grocers practically give away, that would otherwise be garbage, can be transformed in a few hours into something that directly targets the health challenges of middle age. Traditional recipes, Ojeda notes, were solving this problem long before supplement marketing existed.
His broader point is a quiet rebuke of the current preference for isolated nutrients in convenient forms. Real food, prepared the old way, offers complexity and recognition by the body that no capsule can replicate. The carcass in the bin is both waste and an invitation — to reclaim something that worked for generations before we decided it was disposable.
Most people throw away the best part of the chicken without realizing it. When you buy a whole bird, the carcass and feet end up in the trash—a habit so common it barely registers as waste. But nutritionist Pablo Ojeda has spent enough time studying what we discard to know better. The parts we abandon, he says, might be among the most valuable things we could eat.
Ojeda points to a simple fact: chicken breast, the cut most of us buy and cook, is incomplete. It's lean protein, yes, but it's missing something crucial that the rest of the bird contains in abundance. The carcass and feet—the skeletal parts, the connective tissue—hold nutrients that breast meat simply doesn't offer. When you simmer these discarded pieces in water for hours, something remarkable happens. Collagen dissolves into the liquid. So do glycine and proline, amino acids that the body uses to rebuild its own connective tissue. Minerals leach out too, turning plain water into something that tastes like comfort and reads like medicine.
This matters most for people past forty. Ojeda notes that this is when the body's own collagen production begins to decline noticeably. Digestion slows. Joints start to ache. Energy dips. Inflammation creeps in. These aren't separate problems—they're connected, rooted partly in the loss of collagen and the deterioration of gut health that comes with age. A bowl of bone broth doesn't reverse time, but it addresses the mechanism. The collagen in the broth is real food, not a supplement. It's what humans have eaten for generations, simmered in pots while other work got done, a meal that nourished and healed simultaneously.
Ojeda is careful to distinguish between what he's recommending and the supplement industry's promises. Bone broth isn't a miracle cure packaged in a capsule. It's an actual food—bones and water, time and heat—that delivers compounds your body recognizes and can use. The collagen, glycine, and proline that emerge from the pot are the same molecules your joints, skin, and gut lining need to function well. Breast meat contains none of this. Only the parts we've learned to discard do.
What makes this observation particularly pointed is the economics. Ojeda calls bone broth one of the most therapeutic foods available and simultaneously one of the cheapest. You're using parts that grocers practically give away, parts that would otherwise be garbage. A few hours of simmering transforms them into something that addresses the specific health challenges of middle age and beyond. The traditional recipes—the ones that predate supplement marketing and wellness influencers—turn out to have been solving this problem all along.
The larger argument Ojeda is making extends beyond chicken feet. He's pushing back against the current moment's preference for isolated nutrients in convenient forms. Real food, prepared the old way, offers something that supplements cannot: complexity, recognition by the body, and the kind of nourishment that comes from eating what humans have always eaten. The carcass in your trash bin represents both waste and an opportunity to reclaim something that worked for generations before we decided it was disposable.
Citas Notables
The part of the chicken that almost everyone throws away can be one of the most interesting for your health— Pablo Ojeda, nutritionist
One of the most therapeutic foods that exists and also the cheapest— Pablo Ojeda, describing bone broth
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does collagen specifically matter more after forty? It's not like we stop needing it before then.
We do produce it throughout life, but the rate of production drops significantly around that age. Your body starts breaking down collagen faster than it can replace it. That's when you notice the effects—stiffer joints, slower digestion, skin changes. Younger people's bodies are still keeping up with the loss.
So bone broth is essentially replacing what the body stops making on its own?
Not replacing exactly, but supporting. You're providing the raw materials—collagen, glycine, proline—that your body can use to maintain what's already there and repair what's worn. It's not a supplement doing the work for you. It's food your body already knows how to process.
Ojeda calls it therapeutic. That's a strong word. Is there research backing that up, or is this more traditional knowledge?
Both, actually. The compounds in bone broth—collagen, amino acids, minerals—have documented effects on joint health, gut integrity, and skin elasticity. But Ojeda's point is that this wasn't discovered in a lab. Cultures have been making this broth for centuries because they noticed it worked. The science is catching up to what people already knew.
Why do you think we started throwing these parts away in the first place?
Convenience and marketing. Boneless, skinless chicken breast became the modern ideal—quick to cook, no waste to deal with. The industry promoted it as the healthy choice. We forgot that the parts we discarded were actually the most nutrient-dense. Efficiency won out over nourishment.
Is there a cost difference between buying whole chickens and making broth versus just buying breast?
Dramatically. A whole chicken costs less per pound than breast alone. And the broth is essentially free—you're using parts that would be garbage. You're getting therapeutic nutrition from what the system treats as waste. That's the paradox Ojeda is highlighting.
What does he mean by calling it real food instead of a supplement?
Supplements are isolated compounds—collagen powder, for example. Your body has to figure out what to do with a concentrated dose of one thing. Real food is complex. Bone broth has collagen, yes, but also minerals, gelatin, amino acids in proportions your body recognizes from evolution. It's not a shortcut. It's actual nourishment.