Frequently Asked Questions

Prices make no sense. Bagged carrots are cheaper than loose, and then broccoli florets are suddenly less horrifying than kale. Produce costs are a crapshoot. Some veggies are always a decent deal, but bell pepper prices bounce around like lottery numbers.

What are some affordable vegetables that can help reduce my shopping expenses?

I stare at cabbage and wonder if my grandma was right. Cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots—they’re always under a buck a pound, not exciting, but nutritionists love them. Cheapest vegetables lists pop up every year: leafy greens, root crops, all the usual suspects. Try finding cheap spinach during a heat wave, though. And celery? Does anyone eat it outside soup? Snap peas are adorable but pricey unless you go frozen, and then everyone argues about texture. Nobody ever wins that argument.

How can I plan my meals to save money on produce during peak seasons?

Peak season should make things easier, right? I try to meal prep around sales, but then I’m roasting zucchini at 6 a.m. and yelling at myself for forgetting about the bell peppers. Farmers’ markets are a gamble—sometimes you get cheap herbs or tomatoes at closing, sometimes you get nothing. A chef friend once planned two weeks of meals around whatever was overstocked, but I can’t even remember what’s in season half the time. I use an app that claims to know local produce, but it’s wrong more often than not. Has anyone actually memorized what’s local in June? Supposedly, the trick is freezing leftovers before they rot. I keep forgetting.

Are there any cost-effective strategies for buying organic vegetables?

The organic aisle is part status flex, part wallet killer. Do I splurge on organic kale or just wash the regular stuff and hope? Farmers’ markets sometimes have end-of-day markdowns, but I never trust the price tags. CSA boxes might save money, but then you’re stuck with ten pounds of radishes and limp lettuce. Pro tip: track prices by item, not just the “organic” label, and ignore flashy packaging. Cutting your grocery bill in half is possible—some blogger swears by coupon stacking—but I always lose the coupons. Always.

Can growing my own veggies help trim down my food budget?

Mixed feelings here. Does growing my own food save money when I spend $25 on tomato cages? But if I drop my weekly bill from $50 to $40 by harvesting lettuce and peppers, that’s $520 a year. Unless you count all the basil that dies for no reason. Seed swaps with neighbors sometimes work, but last year I traded a pile of radish seeds for one sad zucchini plant. Not sure who won. Still, snipping herbs at home beats buying those overpriced clamshells at the store.

What budget-friendly plant-based recipes offer the best value and nutrition?

Honestly, I keep trying to care about “value” and “nutrition,” but let’s be real—sometimes bean soup is a hug, sometimes it’s just punishment. Last week I made chickpea curry because, I don’t know, every blog acts like it’s the holy grail of cheap meals. It’s fine, it’s filling, but by night three I was plotting escape routes. Lentil stew? Yeah, it’s got fiber and all that, and people won’t stop talking about how much you save per bowl, but am I supposed to get excited about leftovers that never die? I can’t.

There are nights where I just throw cabbage over brown rice and call it dinner, but my family looks at me like I’m pranking them. Supposedly, batch cooking saves money (does it?), but nobody tells you about the stack of mystery Tupperware slowly turning into ice bricks in the freezer. I keep reading about cheapest vegetables—red beans, carrots, sweet potatoes, whatever—but try tossing them all together and one wrong spice ruins everything. Why is it so hard to make cheap food taste like something you actually want to eat?

How does choosing in-season vegetables impact my grocery costs?

March rolls around, I get this weird craving for asparagus—yeah, I know, not exactly practical—and then I’m just standing there in the store, staring at these $6 bundles like, “Who am I kidding?” And don’t get me started on July. Suddenly zucchini is everywhere, dirt cheap, and I’m wondering if I accidentally wandered into a zucchini convention. One time, I grabbed eight pounds of tomatoes for, what, three bucks? The farmer basically begged me to take them because a thunderstorm was coming and—let’s be honest—who wants to lug soggy produce back to the truck?

Every time I give in to my out-of-season whims, my wallet cries a little. Shelf-stable stuff? Meh. I mean, is anyone really fooled by tomato paste pretending to be fresh tomato? I’ve seen food blogs try to sell that idea, but come on. Prices just bounce around like crazy, and I don’t care what the experts claim—nobody can predict supply chains. But honestly, when I actually remember to buy what’s in season (which, let’s admit, is maybe half the time if I’m lucky), my grocery bill drops enough that I notice. Now, if only I could convince myself to crave butternut squash in November instead of, I don’t know, strawberries.