What Rick Rubin Can Teach Us About Eating Disorder Recovery
There’s a question I have been continually asking myself recently:
What if healing isn’t about following a perfectly laid-out path but about stumbling your way through, trying things out, and maybe even having a little fun along the way?
When folks think about food in recovery, it’s often tied to plans, goals, and doing things the “right” way. Eat this many times a day. Hit these exchanges. Follow the plan. And hey, these things are helpful—especially when things feel chaotic. But lately, I’ve been wondering:
Have we built an entire treatment model that’s allergic to creativity?
Where is the room for joy, curiosity, or just messing around with flavor? If we only ever talk about food as something to manage, track, or fix, how do we expect folks to feel connected to it? Ultimately, this is what I’m interested in helping folks do: feel more connected to their food.
Where Creativity Meets Recovery
In my recent talk at the Tri-State Eating Disorder Conference, I shared that one of the biggest things missing in recovery work is creativity. Not because providers are uncreative people—but because the systems we work within often leave little room for anything outside the evidence-based box. But here’s the thing:
I think recovery is more art than science.
And like any artist, people in recovery deserve to play, explore, experiment, and even mess up without fear that everything will fall apart.
This is where I’ve found myself turning to unexpected sources for inspiration. One of them? Rick Rubin.
Yep, that Rick Rubin—the legendary producer behind artists as wide-ranging as Johnny Cash, Metallica, the Beastie Boys, Adele, and Rage Against the Machine. He doesn’t fit in a box. And he doesn’t ask his collaborators to, either.
“To live as an artist is a way of being in the world. A way of perceiving. A practice of paying attention.” – Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being
That quote? It describes recovery just as much as it describes music.
But Creativity is Risky…
I get it. As providers, creativity can feel… scary. It’s not “safe.” It’s not always measurable. You can’t chart it in your note. You weren’t trained for it.
When I work creatively—when I toss aside the exchange system and talk about flavor, satisfaction, or even use Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat as a tool—it sometimes feels like I’m breaking the rules.
But those “rules” weren’t designed for every person. They weren’t designed for joy.
And without joy, what are we actually offering?
Rubin famously lets artists discover themselves in the process of creating, even if it means scrapping entire albums or going silent for days. One of Metallica’s guitarists once joked that the best part of working with Rick was that he wasn’t around—because it allowed the band to create music without influence from the outside. It was art truly representative of them.
There’s something beautifully messy and trust-filled in that. He creates the space, and then gets out of the way.
That’s a model we could learn from in recovery work, too.
Rediscovering Playfulness and Joy with Food
Let’s be honest: most people in recovery have been taught to view food through the lens of control, fear, or shame. So when I suggest that food could be fun, it’s like speaking a foreign language.
But it can be.
Joyful eating isn’t frivolous. It’s revolutionary.
One of the most powerful shifts I’ve seen in recovery is moving away from “What should I eat?” to “What do I want this to taste like?” Or even more simply put, “What sounds good?”
That’s where Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat comes in. Samin Nosrat’s approach isn’t about nutrition labels or portion control—it’s about flavor. It’s about curiosity. And that’s a game-changer.
Here are some ways I use her framework to invite more joy and play into food:
Salt – Add a pinch more to see how it wakes things up. Try different types: flaky, kosher, seasoned. Taste, adjust, explore.
Fat – Notice how butter, olive oil, or avocado can create richness. What textures do you enjoy? What makes a dish feel satisfying? It’s ok to add more, because it’s going to add flavor.
Acid – A splash of vinegar, a squeeze of lemon, or even pickled onions can make the flavors pop. What brightens up the meal?
Heat – Not just spice, but actual cooking—grilling, roasting, toasting. What changes when something is warm and crispy versus raw and cool?
Instead of focusing on structure or control, this invites folks to be present. To engage their senses. To experiment.
And if that feels intimidating? Start small. Mix in a little fun:
Flavor Experiments – Try adding a new spice or sauce to a familiar meal. Not to make it “healthier,” but to make it more delicious.
Sensory Exploration – Notice different textures. Smell the food before taking a bite. Listen to it sizzle in the pan. Reconnect through senses, not rules.
Nostalgia Bites – Revisit childhood favorites. Talk about the memory, the joy, the moment behind the meal.
Theme Meals – Pair a meal with a favorite song, album, or movie.
These moments invite curiosity, not compliance. That shift—from “how do I do this right?” to “what might feel good right now?”—is at the heart of creative recovery.
Recovery as a Creative Practice
Rubin writes,
“We’re not playing to win—we’re playing to play.”
That mindset has changed how I work. It’s shifted how I see recovery. Because at its best, recovery isn’t about achieving a fixed outcome. It’s about becoming more yourself. And the more creativity we allow in that process, the more room we make for authenticity, flexibility, and joy.
So, let’s stop treating creativity as a bonus or a luxury.
Let’s treat it as what it really is: a cornerstone of healing.
Want to try a joy-based food experiment this week?
Pick one meal—any meal—and make it playful. Think flavor, color, memory, music, or pure silly delight. Then tell me how it goes.
(And if it goes totally sideways? That’s still creative. Keep playing.)
I like this idea of using flavor as a fun palette. Off to Trader Joe’s to shop. Will play around with your ideas! Thanks.
Yes. We have built a model that for the most part blocks out creativity. I'm not sure why though. I think it has something to do with the general state of U.S. communications. We have "the establishment" with what I would say are sound, scientifically supported diet strategies (though we see how from time to time, they get things wrong.)
Then we have the "alternative experts" who know how to maximize Tik Tok algorithms to sell ideas that are specious. (The whole Jordan Peterson Carnivore diet he does with his daughter.)
It's a shame that everyone cannot come together somewhere to calmly, with facts, try to make their case to each other so we can both bolster what we know works (e.g. monitoring caloric intake, exercise, etc.) and explore new strategies.
p.s. Rick Rubin and I went to NYU together. In fact, he lived on my dorm floor freshman year and I was shocked to learn those geeky kids from Brooklyn who I would see in our dorm, hanging out with him were the Beastie Boys.