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By Bon Appétit Contributor
Welcome to The Receipt, a series documenting how Bon Appétit readers eat and what they spend doing it. Each food diary follows one anonymous reader’s week of expenses related to groceries, restaurant meals, coffee runs, and every bite in between. In this time of rising food costs, The Receipt reveals how folks—from different cities, with different incomes, on different schedules—are figuring out their food budgets.
In today’s Receipt, a 56-year-old cookbook writer living on $128,000 a year cooks every meal of her week in San Diego. Keep reading for her receipts.
What are your pronouns? She/her
What is your occupation? Because of chronic illness, I am no longer able to work full-time, but I volunteer as the community liaison for a mitochondrial researcher at UC San Diego. I’m a former specialty food shop owner and am writing a cookbook featuring recipes free of common allergens and inflammatory foods.
What city and state do you live in? San Diego, California
What is your annual salary, if you have one? My husband is a molecular biologist working in biotech, and he makes $128K. Since I’m not able to work full-time, we are a single-income family. We do not have children.
How much is one paycheck, after taxes? $3,300
How often are you paid? My husband is paid biweekly.
How much money do you have in savings? $0. We have spent every cent of our savings and 401(k) on my medical tests, treatments, and trips to see specialists in the nine years I’ve been mostly housebound. I have ME/CFS (commonly known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), MCAS (Mast Cell Activation Syndrome) and the genetic connective tissue disorder EDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome)—they often cluster together. Insurance doesn't cover many therapies. We must pay out-of-pocket for things like my neurosurgeries (performed by out-of-network physicians) and my bone marrow stem cell treatments. People have developed similar illnesses after surviving COVID, which, hopefully, will inspire more funding and research. Since these illnesses don’t have cures and management treatments are ongoing, our financial situation isn’t likely to change. But I’m deeply grateful to have access to some emerging therapies, as many of my fellow patients do not. What are your approximate fixed monthly expenses beyond food?
Do you follow a certain diet or have dietary restrictions? Yes, so many! I can react to any food on any given day, so it’s complicated—but the foods I avoid with regularity are gluten, dairy, grains, pseudo-grains, soy, pork, shellfish, refined sugar, nightshades (eggplant, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers), legumes, cashews, and peanuts. As a former specialty food shop owner who once had over 100 cheeses in my deli case, this is a paradigm shift for me. That said, I’ve embraced this new way of eating, and my life is now centered around creating beautiful food that is focused on fresh organic ingredients.
What are the grocery staples you always buy, if any?
How often in a week do you dine out versus cook at home? I always cook at home, but in a pinch my husband will pop into Chipotle to pick up a salad for me and a burrito for him.
How often in a week did you dine out while growing up? We rarely dined out when I was a child, but I grew up in the ’70s, so when we did, Shoney’s was our speed! I don’t remember ever ordering anything except spaghetti.
How often in a week did your parents or guardians cook at home? We always had dinner as a family—my mom cooked and my dad did the dishes.
I have cake for lunch every day. It’s always some iteration of the dark chocolate cake I baked this morning.
8 a.m. My husband is off to work, so I quickly bake a single-layer dark chocolate cake for the week. Once it’s cool, I mix up a glossy nondairy ganache using Guittard’s chocolate baking bars ($8.19 from Whole Foods) and pour it over the top of the cake, nudging it gently over the sides. I use Guittard for its depth of flavor, and because it’s free of additives. All the groceries for this week were purchased Sunday: My husband went to Costco for groceries and his frozen lunches ($130.29), we visited Chino Farms together and bought figs ($19), I ordered Whole Foods delivery ($169.64), and I mail-ordered a Pasturebird pastured chicken ($24.75). 10:13 a.m. I’ve been doing intermittent fasting for years, so I wait until 10 a.m. each morning for breakfast. It’s the same smoothie on repeat. I add a cup of frozen wild blueberries, a fresh banana, a cup of cold filtered water, and three tablespoons of Nutiva’s unflavored hemp protein powder ($33.74 for a 3-pound bag from Amazon, already stocked in our pantry) to a large hard plastic tumbler, and use an immersion blender to blend until creamy. I use water instead of nut milk, so there’s one less item to stock. This week I ordered frozen wild blueberries from Whole Foods ($11.99 for a 32-ounce bag), but, when possible, I get them from Trader Joe’s where they are less expensive. This daily smoothie is fresh and cool, not too sweet, and I always enjoy it.
12:12 p.m. I have cake for lunch every day. It’s always some iteration of the dark chocolate cake I baked this morning. Sometimes I drizzle it with ganache, other times I leave it bare, and, occasionally, I fold dark chocolate chunks into the batter. Lest you be tempted to judge such a practice, I assure you, I’ve run the nutritional analysis through Cronometer, a website that calculates nutritional content, and it is quite balanced! It has 16 grams of protein per slice—that’s the almond flour and pastured eggs—and holds up in the fridge for a full week. I score the top of the cake to portion it into six servings and cut myself a wedge. I bring it upstairs so I can continue editing recipes on my laptop.
1:31 p.m. I make tonight’s dilly dressing ahead of dinner so the flavors can develop—I always make my dressings and vinaigrettes at least a few hours in advance for that reason. I don’t love the term guilty pleasure, but if I have one, it’s definitely Sir Kensington’s organic mayonnaise ($6.83 on sale at Whole Foods, previously purchased). I quickly mix some mayo and a few other ingredients (including way more fresh dill than probably seems reasonable) in a small bowl, and I get it into the fridge for later. Psst—dill is totally underrated.
3 p.m. I head to the fridge for a snack of carrots. Standing over the trash can, I make a game of how quickly I can peel them and question whether my technique could be tightened up in any way. I settle back onto my bed with my laptop propped up to eye level. We’re in a serious heat wave, so I enjoy the cool sweetness of the carrots and mindless crunching. I tell myself that I’m getting a solid hit of beta carotene and lutein for eye health and that I am morally superior for choosing carrots instead of rummaging through my husband’s stash of contraband.
5:15 p.m. I slide a glass baking dish filled with king salmon fillets ($17.99 per pound from Costco) into the oven for a slow, gentle roast. I’m keeping it simple with just olive oil and pink salt, so it pairs well with salads. Wild salmon season is coming to a close, but it’s been a good run. Costco has had a steady supply of king salmon all summer long, arriving Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. We get it as soon as it’s delivered, when it’s so fresh it smells like the sea, without even a hint of fishiness. My husband picked up almost four pounds so we would have extra to freeze. I prefer my salmon to be as silky and unctuous as possible, so when an instant-read thermometer registers 130 degrees Fahrenheit, I immediately transfer the fillets to a plate to halt the cooking process. Once they cool, I set aside enough for two nights and fill small glass Weck jars with the leftover salmon and freeze them for future salads. I find raw salmon that’s been previously frozen a bit mealy, so I cook it first before freezing, and it thaws beautifully.
6:02 p.m. I cook dinner for my husband and myself every night and am fortunate that he’ll eat whatever I eat—even though copious salads are not his preference. I usually augment his meal with some type of fresh artisan bread so it’s hearty enough to sustain him. I assemble our salmon salads by chopping some greens, shaving thin slices of radish and cucumber on a mandoline and topping them with dilly dressing and a sprinkle of Maldon salt.
We grab them and make a beeline to the sofa so we don’t miss Rachel Maddow, but it turns out she has the day off. It’s just as well because our psyches could use a break from the current news cycle. We enjoy our cool, crisp salads and follow them with a Coconut Girl vanilla ice cream sandwich ($4.99 from Whole Foods, previously purchased). It continues to be as hot as Hades, so I decide to cap it off with a small bottle of Q tonic water ($1.25 from Whole Foods). It’s crisp and refreshing and so highly carbonated that it almost hurts—precisely what I’m looking for.
I slice the green cabbage as thinly as possible because I consider that critical to a good slaw.
10:10 a.m. I complete my morning ritual—20 minutes of sitting on my porch with sunlight on my face to keep my insomnia in check—and head to the kitchen to make a smoothie. I’m not sure how I never tire of this smoothie, but I am grateful because it’s a simple, nutritious, and cost-effective breakfast. I munch on four Brazil nuts ($12.99 for a 1.5-pound bag from Costco). This is for their selenium content (an essential mineral that can act as an antioxidant) and because fat can help slow the body’s absorption of the fruit in the smoothie. We live in a three-story condo and I have very limited stamina, so each time I go downstairs to the kitchen, I do so strategically. Meaning, I spread my meal prep throughout the day. I wash produce for tonight’s dinner and get some watermelon granita into the freezer. I purée watermelon, citrus, and a few drops of honey in a Vitamix, pour it into a Pyrex baking dish, and find a spot for it in the freezer. I set the timer for 60 minutes and will do that three times—scraping down the sides and giving it a quick stir at each hour as it begins to freeze.
12:21 p.m. It’s time for luncheon cake. I cut myself a slice and give the granita one last stir before I leave it to finish freezing.
3 p.m. It’s snack time and I remember that I still have a couple jars of fudge walnut energy balls hanging out in my freezer. I made them for Jason Mraz’s tour bus when he went out on tour this summer with Raining Jane (Jason and I have a mutual friend). The balls are loaded with walnuts, which are a great source of omega-3s, and the theobromine from the chocolate, a gentler cousin of caffeine, may give me a little afternoon boost. They’ve got a delightful toothy quality when consumed straight from the freezer, and the walnuts have retained a nice bit of crunch because I like to toast them within an inch of their life. I take a few minutes away from editing my cookbook recipes to enjoy them and contemplate the rest of my day.
5:45 p.m. I start to pull a quick dinner together. I have leftover salmon from last night, which I’ll enjoy chilled with a sprinkle of Maldon salt, and I’ll shave up some cabbage for a simple slaw. I slice the green cabbage as thinly as possible because I consider that critical to a good slaw. Black pepper is generally overutilized in my opinion, but this slaw begs for lots of it. So I dial up the pepper grinder to a coarse setting and add a good 15 grinds into a mayo and horseradish mixture. I cut a Granny Smith apple into matchstick-shaped slivers and mix everything together to sit for 15 minutes or so. Dinner almost always takes place on the sofa in front of the telly. Depending on traffic, my husband usually slides in from work (think Kramer sliding through Jerry’s apartment door) just in time to join me. We conclude our meal by shaving ourselves a big bowl of the pink, fluffy watermelon granita I made earlier. 6:30 p.m. I need to get tomorrow’s black cod ($18.99 a pound from Whole Foods) in some marinade and into the fridge for a 24-hour flavor bath. I whisk the ingredients together in a small glass baking dish, cut a heavy pound of black cod into four fillets, and put them flesh side down into the liquid.
My recipe was inspired by Nobu’s popular miso-marinated black cod. I don’t eat soy and my marinade does not have any ingredients overlapping with Nobu’s, but it has that same deeply golden hue with the char around the edges that makes it so enticing.
10 a.m. I make my favorite fresh and fruity morning smoothie and prep some produce to make summer slushies when my acupuncturist is here later.
12:11 p.m. Another day, another slice of dark chocolate cake.
2:30 p.m. My acupuncturist is here to give me acupuncture and craniosacral therapy since I’m mostly housebound; the craniosacral therapy helps immensely with my headache. He is the only human I see with any regularity besides my husband, and I am deeply grateful for his generosity. I know he loves lime, so I whip up some summer slushies in the Vitamix with cucumber, lime, and mint. We’re still in the middle of a nasty heat wave, and the slushies are super tart and refreshing. He has taste-tested so many of my cakes for me that I usually plan my recipe testing to coincide with his visits so I can send him home with something tasty. Last week, I made us each a jar of preserved lemons, inspired by Katie Button’s show, From The Source, on Magnolia Network.
5:07 p.m. I get the black cod out of the fridge so it can come to room temperature. My recipe was inspired by Nobu’s popular miso-marinated black cod. I don’t eat soy and my marinade does not have any ingredients overlapping with Nobu’s, but it has that same deeply golden hue with the char around the edges that makes it so enticing. I prep some baby bok choy by cutting it in half lengthwise, brushing it with olive oil (I use a silicone pastry brush to get into all the nooks and crannies), and sprinkling it with pink salt. I heat the oven on broil and cook the black cod until it flakes easily with a fork, then slide the baby bok choy, cut side up, onto the middle rack to roast. In the meantime, I simmer the remaining marinade on the stovetop until it’s thick and reduced. I plate the cod alongside the bok choy, drizzle it with the reduction, and sprinkle it with black sesame seeds.
I pull together the radicchio salad by slicing the radicchio into thin ribbons and adding some thinly sliced shallot, toasted walnuts, and quartered figs. I toss it all in the sherry vinaigrette before plating it next to the chicken. This feels like such a happy fall meal.
10:14 a.m. I blend up my morning smoothie and figure I’d better get a jump on dinner. I make a Columela, Vinegre De Jerez sherry vinegar ($12.49 from Whole Foods) vinaigrette, wash and separate a head of radicchio, and rinse some figs. I store it all in a salad spinner lined with paper towels to stay fresh. I have multiple sizes of spinners in my fridge and find they really help extend the life of produce. My husband and I got the figs from Chino Farms after noticing on Instagram that figs were back. It’s a beautiful drive 20 miles north into Rancho Santa Fe, past the polo fields and golf courses, down a winding two-lane road lined with palms and eucalyptus. It’s always a treat to see what they’ve harvested that day and plan a menu around that. I left with Panache (also called Tiger Stripe) and Brown Turkey figs in hand.
12:30 p.m. I cut myself a slice of dark chocolate cake and take it to the sofa where, like so much of the world, I’m watching the news of Queen Elizabeth’s passing.
3:17 p.m. I head to the kitchen for some pistachios—I prefer them in the shell because they’re saltier and crunchier and seem generally fresher. And I like that the shelling process slows me down a bit.
4 p.m. I get the four-pound pastured chicken I mail-ordered from Pasturebird into the oven. In the interest of time and energy, I don’t even salt it—I quickly truss it and roast it for an hour and 10 minutes in a glass pan to catch all the juices. I will freeze the bones and bits, along with the pan drippings, until I accumulate four carcasses. Then, I’ll make a concentrated stock that takes up less space in my freezer and can be reconstituted as needed for soups. While the chicken is cooking, I melt some 74% chocolate wafers in the microwave and dip some Black Mission figs ($1.26, Whole Foods) into the chocolate. I sprinkle each one lightly with Maldon salt and set them on a parchment paper-lined plate. I’m fairly militant about not overcooking meat—especially after going to the care and expense to source quality pasture-raised meats—so I hang out close to the oven in the final minutes until my instant-read thermometer registers 160 degrees.
5:54 p.m. The chicken has cooled enough to slice it, so I cut us each a few thick, juicy slices and season them with salt and pepper. I pull together the radicchio salad by slicing the radicchio into thin ribbons and adding some thinly sliced shallot, toasted walnuts, and quartered figs. I toss it all in the sherry vinaigrette before plating it next to the chicken. This feels like such a happy fall meal; I wish the weather here in San Diego would get with the program. 6:13 p.m. I bring the plate of chocolate-dipped figs to the sofa where we have been camped out, following the events of the day. The figs are a sweet way to conclude our fig-tastic, late-summer dinner on this monumental day in history.
We eat dinner on the sofa per usual—thank god for slipcovers.
10:04 a.m. I sip my tried and true morning smoothie while getting an orange olive oil cake into the oven. Perfecting the crumb when using almond flour ( $19.99 for a two-pound Bob’s Red Mill bag at Whole Foods) and sweetening with maple syrup ($12.79 for 33.8 ounces from Costco) is tricky, so this is my fourth go of it. The crumb turned out perfectly during one of my previous attempts, but I neglected to write down the exact measurements, so here we are. The good news is, my husband is more than willing to eat my mistakes.
12 p.m. I save the orange olive oil cake for after dinner and cut myself a slice of dark chocolate cake. I eat it over the course of an hour while I take a peek at the local listings on Redfin (I like to check out the décor) and do some editing on my laptop.
3:13 p.m. I head to the kitchen for the slimmest sliver of orange cake (because I cannot help myself) and to make a salad dressing for tonight. The cake is just the right amount of orange, with a barely perceptible hint of olive oil, but needed a few more minutes in the oven. This time I will make a note of that! I pull together a quick salad dressing of fresh lemon juice, grated garlic, pink salt, and mayo, and get it into the fridge for later. 5:52 p.m. Hooray for leftover roast chicken! My obsession du jour is watercress or upland cress, whichever one I can get my hands on, because the CDC has placed watercress at the top of its “powerhouse vegetables” list. After cutting off the root ball, I give the upland cress ($2.99, Whole Foods) a rough chop and split it between two shallow bowls. I add some cold shredded chicken breast from last night’s chicken, thin slices of radish and cucumber, and top it all with the creamy lemon dressing I made earlier. The simplest of dinners and I’m all about it. We eat dinner on the sofa per usual—thank god for slipcovers. And then I cut us each a slice of the orange olive oil cake for dessert and turn to my husband for his feedback. He gives it a thumbs-up.
I am fully aware that I may regret this later. Eating dark chocolate after 1 p.m. virtually guarantees me a fitful, sleepless night. Maybe it'll be different this time? If not, who could blame me? They are so good.
10 a.m. It’s Saturday, so my husband makes our smoothies and brings them (along with Brazil nuts) upstairs where I’m watching the weekend lineup of food shows: The Kitchen, Magnolia Table, and Zoe Bakes. Having him home on the weekends always feels like a treat. 11:28 a.m. I head downstairs to the kitchen to prep some bison meatloaf for dinner tonight. I sauté some grated veg and, after letting the mixture cool, combine it with ground bison ($19.99 for 2.5 pounds at Costco) and a few other ingredients. I form it all into a loaf and refrigerate it so the flavors can mingle.
12 p.m. I microwave a frozen noodle concoction from Costco for my husband and cut myself a slice of luncheon cake. He’s bonkers for these noodles and, because there are so many foods he doesn’t get to eat at home because of my food intolerances, I always encourage him to go rogue for lunch. We have our lunch upstairs, me still watching food shows and him on his ridiculously oversized computer monitor, playing video games, as usual.
2:55 p.m. I decide to make Blackout Cookies, a recipe I adapted from the house-made cocoa almond cookies at Los Angeles restaurant Botanica’s gourmet market. A couple years ago, co-owner Emily Fiffer graciously shared the recipe with me. My version alters it slightly for ease of preparation, but keeps its basic essence. This is a thick almond butter-based dough, so I break out my rarely-used hand mixer to make quick work of the mixing process. I get all the ingredients into the bowl and then I chop up a 100% cacao Alter Eco Total Blackout chocolate bar ($2.70 on sale at Whole Foods) and add it in last. I line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment, use a large Oxo cookie scoop to make six balls, sprinkle them with flake salt, and bake them for 15 minutes. I’ll either find a home for the remaining cookies or freeze the dough for another time. I am fully aware that I may regret this later. Eating dark chocolate after 1 p.m. virtually guarantees me a fitful, sleepless night. Maybe it'll be different this time? If not, who could blame me? They are so good.
4:33 p.m. I bake the bison meatloaf for just over an hour, until it registers 160 degrees. And, because it drops a good amount of flavorful liquid, I transfer the meatloaf to a platter and pour the pan juices through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl and save it to serve with the meatloaf.
6:02 p.m. Comfort food on the sofa! We enjoy a hearty slice of the meatloaf with a drizzle of jus and a simple side salad of upland cress with olive oil and flake salt. After dinner, I settle into a Netflix movie that’s been on my list, The Social Dilemma.
Since I don’t tolerate potatoes, I’ve also replaced the Yukon gold potatoes with Hannah sweet potatoes, which are white-fleshed and less sweet than other sweet potatoes.
10:07 a.m. I am famished. I ask my husband to please make our morning smoothies as I return Facebook messages from a fellow Ehlers-Danlos patient who has some post-surgical questions. We are a tight community and are here for each other in every way imaginable. 12:00 p.m. Today’s lunch is the usual. Life is short, eat the cake.
5:17 p.m. I get started on dinner: my warm arugula vichyssoise, adapted from Giada de Laurentiis’s recipe. I’ve omitted the two forms of dairy (Parmesan and mascarpone) contained in the original recipe. And since I don’t tolerate potatoes, I’ve also replaced the Yukon gold potatoes with Hannah sweet potatoes, which are white-fleshed and less sweet than other sweet potatoes. I limit them to one pound in the recipe, so the other ingredients are more dominant and help mute the subtle sweetness of the sweet potatoes. They have a fluffy texture, so the soup is not quite as silky—a reasonable concession. I’ve made this iteration several times now and am so happy that it works. I sauté the vegetables, add some homemade stock from my freezer, and simmer the veg until it’s tender. I transfer the mixture to a Vitamix and purée it until smooth. I pour the finished soup into four bowls—two bowls go right into the fridge and the remaining two are for our dinner.
5:52 p.m. I like to add protein to the soup to make it a complete meal. So I boil a small pot of water and make some 8-minute jammy eggs. When the timer dings, I quickly pour out the water, rinse the eggs in cold water, and add a big scoop of ice into the pot to halt the cooking process. I float a halved egg on top of each bowl of soup, add a generous sprinkle of Maldon salt, and take them to the sofa. Having come from a place of illness where, for a time, I could barely manage to put a meal together and feed myself, it’s easy to feel grateful for simple things like a cozy sofa, and a beautiful bowl of soup.
By Bon Appétit Contributor
By Bon Appétit Contributor
By The Bon Appétit Staff & Contributors
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