Obviously, a big challenge was that the plan is designed for a family of four. This was clear, as the quantity of leftovers in our fridge forced us to move menu options around, which had the added effect of altering the nutritional balance of the menu overall.
Yet the average family on food stamps with children only has 3.3 people, and the average household size receiving these benefits overall is 2.3 people. While some people may not have children, they may have someone who is disabled, or an elderly person living with them. Thus, the menu for a family of four is too big to begin with. This means that the people the plan was actually created for, much like us, will have to modify it in order accommodate a difference between SNAP benefits and the actual cost of the Thrifty Food Plan, as well as adjust it for a smaller family size. The in-store reality of a problem like this is that for those trying to follow the plan, or use it as a guide, foods like cereal, loaves of bread, and juice do not come in very many sizes, which forces people to buy the smaller size, thereby getting less for their money. The plan as it stands now doesn’t have the largest number of people in mind; it is built for a family of four receiving the maximum allotment, so a family of, say, five would really have trouble making do with SNAP.
These built-in assumptions about the amount of assistance, and the family size of the households receiving that assistance, do not match reality. The USDA knows that the cost of the plan doesn’t match up with the average SNAP benefit, as their own documentation shows. In April 2009, a family of two between the ages of nineteen and fifty years old could expect to pay $350 to eat on the Thrifty Food Plan, according to the USDA. The USDA documents the cost of the plan monthly in order to record how food prices shift over time. With our average allotment on SNAP, plus the supplemental income, our total budget for both of us was $249.60. This shortfall doesn’t make sense. At the cost of food when we did this, we were one hundred dollars short. However, if we were receiving the maximum benefit for two people, we would have had just enough to make it work.
Beyond these structural problems with the plan, we found that as people with full-time jobs, we didn’t have the time to prepare most of the lunches without serious changes to the meal (for instance, prepackaged frozen burgers instead of ground meat), or making the lunch meal the night before at the same time that we made dinner. The rice cereal listed for breakfast took twenty-five minutes to cook, and this extra time in the morning made me late for work. The amount of preparation and cooking time required for dinners was more than we typically had the patience for, and in these instances we were thankful when we had leftovers. While some of the dinners, like the stir-fry, take as little as twenty-five minutes from start to finish, most take about an hour (give or take), with some, like the chili, taking closer to two hours. Of course, when you are making a new meal for the first time it takes a little longer. We weren’t in the habit of making things like the (unpalatable) turkey-cabbage casserole, and pulling such dishes together took a little bit longer than the times listed on the recipes.
There were many nights when eating a burrito from our local taco shop would have been far less stressful, and a couple of times we considered it, but with the limited budget, we could not afford the four-dollar luxury. That being said, if the meals had tasted better, or appealed to us, we would have been less frustrated when preparing them. After working a ten-hour day, it’s disheartening to spend valuable time preparing a meal that doesn’t sound that appetizing to begin with. But as this is solely an issue of personal taste, we would simply like to recommend that the plan become more diverse in its offerings.
The plan is also inconsistent with the options listed for snacks. Some days it lists French fries or chocolate pudding (far from healthy), and on other days it suggests orange juice. On one day, there is no snack at all. As a side note, as mentioned earlier, the plan also assumes that you already have spices like garlic powder, chili powder, dried parsley flakes, dried oregano, dry mustard, and paprika. Luckily we had them, but the spices themselves are not included on the USDA shopping list, and since spices are often expensive, it would be hard to rationalize a three-dollar container of dry mustard that would be used infrequently, versus a complete frozen dinner or loaf of bread for the same price. In addition, the plan also assumed that we had the equipment to make the food they suggested: pots, pans, mixing bowls, and baking dishes.
In comparison to the dollar-diet experiment, the Thrifty Food Plan allowed us more flexibility in our food planning, more nutritionally balanced meals, and adequate serving sizes. It also allowed us more diversity in menu options, and it took less of a toll on our personal health. Kerri and I both maintained our weight, although we didn’t do any strenuous exercise, and the only times we felt pangs of hunger were when we made a mistake in our planning. Our lack of time made it hard to stay active, and hard to plan.
As a guide for those with little money to spend on food, the Thrifty Food Plan needs a serious overhaul. Having had the experience with the dollar diet, we knew the benefit of planning meals around central ingredients like beans and rice, potatoes, and tomato sauce. We knew that it was better to go shopping for fewer processed food products and more raw ingredients, and to judge costs on the price per ounce. And we understood the necessity of planning for leftovers as a way to reduce waste, save time, and control portion sizes. While each experiment had its benefits and challenges, after finishing each one, we felt fortunate that we could take what we learned and apply those lessons to our lives.
The one factor that was missing from both projects was that we didn’t feel particularly healthy during either one. We had managed to survive while spending far less than we had in the past, and far less than the average American spends on food each day. But is survival the objective, or do we also want people to thrive?
The amount of fresh produce in each plan wasn’t nearly enough for our ideal diet. We were left wanting more, and in our community, “more” is everywhere. We now understand why people in low-income areas are more likely to stop at a fast-food restaurant than go home and cook up, say, the baked cod with cheese and scalloped potatoes that the Thrifty Food Plan suggests. Fast food is convenient, satisfying, and appears to be cheap, especially if one eats from the dollar menu. This is also why many of the poorest among us suffer from obesity and other health problems.
However, our area is far different from the one where those most underserved by the food stamp program live. While fast-food options exist in our community, we rarely visit them. You would have to make an effort to go to one, and if you are going out, it makes more sense to patronize one of the local restaurants or taco shops instead. In our coastal community, things are pretty spread out; you need a car to get from residential areas to places to shop or to access other community services. There are few people walking around outside, even in the busiest sections of town. Most of the people who live here are white, and when it comes to income level, as of 2007, the median household income was above $90,000. There are about 60,000 people living in an area that stretches over roughly twenty square miles, with sandy beaches, coastal shopping districts, and high-performing schools. The median cost of a rented house at the time of this writing is $1,700 a month.
By contrast, in City Heights, the region of San Diego that we discovered had the lowest food stamp participation in the nation, there were people everywhere. Many shops in City Heights are easily accessible without a personal vehicle, the population is predominantly Hispanic, and the median household income is close to $30,000. In City Heights, there are 80,000 people crammed into an area that is three square miles, with mostly family-run markets and bodegas, where 40 percent of adults have less than a twelfth-grade education, and the median cost of a rental, either a house or an apartment, is under $600 a month.
While the residents of Encinitas have several parks, beaches, and fitness centers, which support a greater level of health, those living in City Heights are far younger overall, and have the same hospitalization rate for coronary heart disease as th
e rest of the entire county. This area also has the highest hospitalization rate for asthma in the county, and it’s more than double the rate of our area. Since City Heights is the densest neighborhood in San Diego, houses are often infested with cockroaches and mold, which, beyond being unsanitary, contribute to children suffering from acute symptoms.
When we visited City Heights, we noticed that liquor stores had prime real estate, while in our community one is more likely to see wine merchants tucked in between Italian restaurants and upscale boutiques. These differences between our area and City Heights heightened our understanding about the level of privilege that we are accustomed to, and helped us further understand that while we had merely limited the amount of money we spent on food, there were a number of interconnected factors that determine a person’s ability to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Eating well is actually encouraged in our area through several large supermarkets, natural food stores, healthy dining options, open spaces, and recreational activities; the same cannot be said for places like City Heights, where far more people reside within far less space.
However, beyond their differences, both areas of San Diego are vibrant places where people live and work, doing their best to build better lives for themselves and their communities. People in both areas deserve to have the opportunity to choose healthy options at affordable prices, but unfortunately this is not the case, and for those receiving SNAP benefits, it is even more challenging. It’s definitely not as easy as stopping by the Whole Foods on the way home from work to pick up some arugula for a salad. And while educational efforts to help people understand healthy eating patterns are important, they are useless unless such foods are readily available and priced within their budget. People tend to know which foods are healthy. They don’t need a class; they need a paycheck.
With our experience eating on the Thrifty Food Plan behind us, we continued to wonder what it truly costs for people to eat a healthful diet. We had lived more or less in line with the food pyramid for just over four dollars a day, but with the average American spending seven dollars a day on food, why were so many people suffering from diet-related health problems like obesity and heart disease? Was it what they were eating? How was it possible that in the richest nation on Earth, many people were still suffering from food insecurity, while struggling with being overweight? Did it really cost more to eat well? Were people in our country, rich and poor alike, just eating too much? These questions lingered as the week passed and Kerri’s birthday approached.
AT OUR HOUSE, we treat birthdays like international holidays. We go all out. My birthdays are usually destination birthdays, and when Kerri’s come around, I try to go beyond her expectations. This year I was in luck, as her sister had devised a plan to surprise Kerri by getting her family down to our house for a few days, for her thirtieth. Her family doesn’t travel much, and as they live at the other end of the state, about six hundred miles away, this was special. Her birthday fell on a Friday, and that night we went to Hollywood to be part of the studio audience for one of our favorite shows, then ate dinner afterward at a restaurant in West Hollywood called Real Food Daily. When we are in this area, and can afford it, we visit one of their two locations; it’s a luxury saved for special occasions.
Beyond ballpark fare at a Padres game we’d attended, this was our first meal out in over a month, and it was difficult to decide what to have. We started with the Better Than Cheddar Nachos: tortilla chips topped with melted cashew cheese, black beans, pico de gallo, guacamole, and tofu sour cream. The mountainous plate lasted maybe five minutes. Next, Kerri and I shared the special salad, which included roasted golden beets, sweet peas, soft avocado with romaine lettuce, and a designer dressing. For our entrees, I had the enchiladas stuffed with sautéed and roasted mushrooms, red bell peppers, and other veggies, topped with pico de gallo, and a side of black beans and Spanish rice. Kerri had a Caesar wrap: blackened tempeh, avocado, capers, romaine hearts, and Caesar dressing in a spinach tortilla, accompanied by a side of mashed potatoes topped with mushroom gravy. For dessert, I ordered a “Fauxstess” chocolate cupcake, while Kerri enjoyed espresso. I knew that dinner would be pricey, and as Kerri’s family had gone to great expense to visit, I felt it was only appropriate for me to take care of the bill. When the server brought over the little black folder I was stunned: $125 for the four of us. Now, for the celebrities who live in the area, this is probably a steal, but for a schoolteacher who had just spent about that much to feed himself for an entire month, this was beyond comprehension. I thought of those who would never be able to afford this meal. I did some quick rationalizing: It’s her birthday. We’re in Hollywood. Her family is here. This is a special occasion. I pulled out my wallet and anxiously withdrew my debit card.
The next day we took her family to the beach, and for the first time in over a month, we did not have to vigilantly watch our intake of snacks. I tried to resist the herb and garlic crackers dipped in garlic hummus while we relaxed on the shore, but after a few minutes, I caved in. Kerri put the cracker in my mouth; as the garlic flavor hit my tongue, I closed my eyes in bliss. With each crunch, a feeling of relief washed over me. The box was empty within an hour.
This revived habit of gratification eating continued a few hours later. A larger group of us would be celebrating Kerri’s birthday that night at Sipz. We had not eaten there since the end of the dollar-diet project, and once again, the number of choices was overwhelming. The serving sizes seemed relatively normal this time, whereas the day after we finished eating on a dollar a day, they had seemed enormous. Jovial conversation and laughter carried us through our appetizers and entrees, and as Kerri stepped away to the restroom for a moment, I hopped up and found our friend Sylvia, who owned the restaurant.
“Did it come in?” I asked.
She nodded. “We put it in the freezer when it got here, but we took it out this afternoon so it would be ready by the time you arrived. I can’t believe you had it shipped here from Philadelphia. It must be really good.”
I asked her to bring it out in about five minutes. Returning to my seat before Kerri came back from the bathroom, Kerri’s mother asked, “So did it get here all right?”
I answered that it had, and by the smile on my face, the rest of the table could see that this was going to be special. Kerri returned to the table, and right on cue Sylvia approached with the dinner’s finale. We sang “Happy Birthday” as people in the restaurant turned to see who the lucky person was, and Kerri blew out the candle.
“Oh wow. Is this what I think it is?” Kerri asked with a look of disbelief.
A year earlier, Kerri and I were in Philadelphia with my journalism students, and we ate at a place called Gianna’s Grille. The restaurant caters to omnivores and vegans alike, but their desserts are completely vegan, and some of the best in the world. We made several visits back to Gianna’s over the course of our trip, and my students liked it so much that they had it delivered to the hotel. The desserts are so renowned that you can have them shipped overnight across the country. I had put in the order a couple of weeks earlier, and it had arrived: Death by Chocolate and Peanut Butter Cheesecake. Overnight shipping for a refrigerated dessert across the United States isn’t cheap, but my sweet tooth combined with this special occasion made the outlandish and extravagant cheesecake an easy choice. Besides, this was something she would remember for the rest of her life. Sylvia handed Kerri the cake knife and she began serving everyone. Upon the first few bites, looks of utter amazement swept the table. Like flowers finding the sun, the faces of those in our group came to life in a current of sheer ecstasy. Peanut butter frosting drizzled over the Oreo chocolate chunk topping gave way to cool layers of fluffy peanut butter cheesecake filling. I smiled at Kerri, and between bites whispered, “I love you.”
Yet, as each decadent forkful passed my lips I could not help but call to mind the situation in City Heights, and the people nationwide who were struggling to find enough to eat. I thought about our experiences wit
h the dollar-diet project and the Thrifty Food Plan. I closed my eyes and reminded myself to be thankful for my life, and remembered the promise I had made to myself to do what I could to help. As a person with privilege, I knew that I had a responsibility to speak up when I could, but I was still struggling with my own food battles. Our experiments had brought to the surface my own struggles to eat reasonably sized portions, and challenged me to adhere to healthier eating patterns. It seemed only appropriate to get my eating habits in order before asking anyone else to do likewise. We finished up our hedonistic dessert and went home, thoroughly sated.
Over the next few days, I reflected on what we needed to do in order to help us further understand our relationship to food. We spent a good amount of time deconstructing our budget, and the SNAP program, but we still didn’t feel like we had figured out what it meant to “eat well,” or how much we were willing to spend in order to do so. We knew that the dollar diet was too extreme for the long term, and that the Thrifty Food Plan wasn’t the right menu for our schedules, tastes, or progressive politics.
So, we started making a plan for our next experiment. I did some research online, picked up some books from health experts, started planning a menu, and thought about what it would take for us to eat “healthy.” We wondered how much it would cost to eat well, considering our modest budget, our work schedules, and our need for good-tasting, filling food. This was no easy task. Our local paper was always promoting some type of food as a solution to some type of physical ailment. Supermarket checkout stands were choked with magazine food stories that made healthy eating seem effortless, and even fun. Our experiences in trying to improve the way we ate seemed quite contrary. It took effort to plan menus, and after a long day working with teenagers, cooking was anything but fun. In the same spirit that led us to question the cost dynamic of our grocery shopping, we now faced an additional challenge: to focus on our health as well.
On a Dollar a Day: One Couple's Unlikely Adventures in Eating in America Page 15