This was the effort: a week’s worth of meals for my family of four, for a hundred bucks. Did we do it?
Yes, and no. And I’m sure you saw that coming.
Here’s the yes: that initial $104 grocery run was the only one we made, all week, and that - in and of itself - was a win. Even though the food for the week had some hits and some misses, we saved some cash, and we all survived. (Yes: those are my standards for victory, these days.)
That said, there are some “no”s as well. We did, technically, break the restaurant rule: I arrived home one night 45 minutes before dinnertime to find that our disabled dog had befouled himself and most of the first floor of my house. I sent Josh and the kids away for several hours so that I could sanitize my floors and use a lot cuss words without interruption; they hit up a local burrito joint. (I ate at home.) (Do I get a medal?)
Also: we met up with friends for a picnic on Friday, and while I did make and pack most of what we took, I stopped at a local bakery for a loaf of good bread and some chocolate chip cookies to share. (The cookies, perhaps, were my medal.)
Also: I could not have done it this way without a stocked pantry. I had condiments, butter, oils, granola bars for my kids, bags of coffee, lemons, salt, spices, pickles, eggs, pasta, things, stuff. I had stuff. Some people don’t have stuff.
Here’s the bigger “no,” though, the reason I think this was kind of a fail: I didn’t think I was feeding my family well. The makeup of our meals in terms of the ratio of produce and healthy proteins to carbs felt all out of whack; the yogurt and other probiotic fermented foods that I usually buy didn’t fit into the $100 framework; processed white rice and breads were less expensive than their whole-grain counterparts, and my kids ate more of them this week than they usually do (it should be noted that they were thrilled about this). It all felt sacrificial: the gains came at a loss. I was feeding people, but I knew I could do better. It was kind of depressing to realize that I haven’t been over-spending as much as I thought: it really is just staggeringly expensive to feed a voracious group of four, right now.
Even more depressing was the knowledge that my budget actually overshot the reality for millions of people: the national average for nutrition assistance (formerly “food stamps”) is about $250 per month, per household. Given current inflation - and the fact that the most nutritious foods are the ones seeing the highest pricing spikes - that amount feels insulting. Forgive me: that number is a fucking joke. I was struggling to have many good feels about my $100, and I was spending almost double what the federal government deems necessary. That is just bananas.
I also palpably appreciated the truth that the less you can spend on groceries, the more mental gymnastics you have to do to make it stretch, to limit waste, to keep it fresh, to make it work. It was exhausting. Domestic labor has value, and while we saved some cash this week, I paid for it with a striking increase in mental load.
But: emotional and existential crises aside, what did we eat?
Monday: the beef and cauliflower were slow-simmered in the green curry sauce for most of the day, and we ate it with rice and these sweet potatoes (a staple, here). The jarred sauce was fine but not great, and required a lot of pantry doctoring. It was a reminder that convenience is expensive: I could have made something better, for less money, with some fresh herbs and ginger. I also did a little prep for the week on Monday: half of the kale was added to an existing batch of kimchi in the fridge, and the other half was simmered in some of the salsa verde with the black beans; I figured I’d use both for my breakfasts throughout the week.
Tuesday: I deboned the kosher turkey breast and sliced the meat into thin cutlets, pounding them out a little to make them uniform. The carcass was roasted in a 400F oven on top of the broccoli florets, which got nice and turkey-shmaltzy while they crisped. (I froze the carcass to make stock, later.) The turkey Paillards were grilled along with the tortillas; I reheated some of the beans and kale, and warmed the grilled corn, and the plan was grilled turkey & crispy broccoli tacos. However, as we sat down, I noticed that the remaining tortillas still in the package were green with mold, so that was cool - threw all of those out and pivoted to taco bowls, with Monday’s leftover rice. (And yes, TJ’s refunded me for the bad torts.)
Wednesday was the day my dog crapped all over the house. My dinner was 3 aspirin and two episodes of Ozark.
Thursday was pasta day: I made a loaf of bread and a spicy vodka sauce to pair with the package of noodles. The jar of sauce was better than I expected, although I jzujzed it into a vodka sauce anyway. I shredded the zucchini and gave it this treatment, but pureed it into the sauce instead of turning it into a risotto.
Friday was picnic day, and I boiled the purple potatoes along with some eggs the night before to take, cold, for snacking. I added some cornichon, some sliced cucumbers, some fun dipping salts, and the aforementioned cheater bakery goodies. I also used Friday to turn the Hawaiian mini-breads into French toast for my kids: I split each one in half, soaked them overnight in a puree of eggs and cream and bananas and cinnamon, and then pan-fried them in butter. They are… ridiculously good. Better than the French toast I regularly make with homemade bread. I am so ashamed.
Friday’s leftovers became a tasty Nicoise-style salad on Saturday; the eggs, cukes, pickles, and potatoes were cubed and tossed with some good imported tuna from the pantry and a quick vinaigrette with lots of lemon.
Miscellaneous: my husband’s and son’s lunches were always some version of leftovers; my lunches were generally the kale kimchi or the kale and beans, with eggs; my daughter’s lunches are covered by her summer camp.
What’s left? The tots are still in the freezer; we have a little fruit left, although it’s all on its last legs; the sliced cheese was a weird purchase, and we didn’t really have any outlets for it, but I dispatched some of it via my son’s lunchbox.
What would I do differently? I’d try to buy more vegetables and another meal’s worth of quality meat or seafood, and less (if any) processed carby things. I’d skip the jarred sauces and buy herbs and yogurt instead. I probably wouldn’t buy random things I hadn’t tried before. I’d get those frozen oatmeal balls again, though, because they are weirdly so delicious.
What would I make again? The spicy vodka pasta (recipe coming next week), and - yes, really - the French toasts (recipe coming next line).
Recipe: $100 French toast.
Pictured above. Makes 24 mini toasts; freezes well.
Ingredients:
1 package of Hawaiian dinner rolls, separated and split
4 eggs
1/2 cup of heavy cream
1/2 cup of milk
1 banana, any size, as ripe and soft as possible
2 teaspoons of turbinado or brown sugar
2 teaspoons of cinnamon
1 teaspoon of fine-grained salt
1 teaspoon of quality vanilla extract
Instructions:
Arrange the split rolls in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet, then place in a cold oven. Set the oven to 200F and allow the bread to dry until each roll sounds light and hollow when tapped with a fork, about an hour. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely. (Can be done 2-3 days in advance.)
Puree the remaining ingredients in a blender until frothy and smooth.
Drizzle the liquid custard over the dried bread slowly, taking care to cover each piece. Use all of the custard base; excess will flood the pan but that’s ok. Allow the bread to soak for 5 minutes, then flip each piece over. Cover the sheet pan with some plastic wrap and place it in the fridge overnight.
When you’re ready to serve, warm 1 tablespoon of butter in a 12” skillet over medium heat until bubbling. Arrange the bread pieces in a single layer, 1” spacing, and fry for 3 minutes per side. (You’ll have to do this in batches; a 12” skillet can handle it in two, but if you use smaller one it’ll be three batches. Add more butter with each batch. Do not skimp.)
Serve immediately, with extra butter, real maple syrup, and some cocoa nibs (if you’re like me) or some candy-coated fennel seed “sprinkles” (if you’re like my kids). xo.