Not all of us have the ability to buy or cook in bulk. Here’s how to feed yourself frugally, without sacrificing flavour
Everywhere you look, prices are going up. Australians are experiencing the biggest fall in real wages since records began in 1997.
So like everyone, I’m trying to watch what I spend on groceries. (According to my own supermarket receipts, a bag of chips costs 27% more than it did last year.) But a lot of the advice out there for frugal feeds seems to be geared towards cooking in bulk or catering for a large household.
I’m not trying to feed a volleyball team – just myself. I don’t have infinite freezer space, a veggie patch, or an exhaustive line-up of kitchen appliances. Often I don’t know if I’ll be home for dinner that night. So here’s what I’ve learned about feeding myself cheaply, as a freelancer with an unpredictable schedule and precarious finances, living alone in a little flat.
I like cooking, but mainly because I like eating. I’ve come to realise that the accomplishment doesn’t mean much to me unless my creation is either tastier or cheaper than the store-bought version. Some things simply aren’t worth the hassle. Bread, yoghurt, doughnuts, roast chook – I’m happy to leave that to the professionals.
Learning to embrace shortcuts like curry paste, cake mix, fish fillets and jar sauce has helped make cooking less daunting, which ultimately means I save money because I’m eating at home more. I don’t know why I used to be so hard on myself about making things from scratch. I don’t need to be Li Ziqi.
Like every Chinese child since the Tang dynasty, I grew up being constantly reminded that every grain of rice is a farmer’s blood, sweat and toil, so I really, really hate wasting food. But when I first started living alone, I often overestimated how much fresh produce I’d eat. I’d find myself fashioning an emergency frittata to rescue dying vegetables and it would taste of panic and desperation.
Now I’m very mindful of the expiry date as well as the unit price; everything is cheaper in bulk, sure, but not if you end up wasting it. Frozen and canned veggies are my friend. Carrots, onions and potatoes have a decent lifespan and fit into nearly any dish or cuisine. I know I can’t finish a whole loaf of bread (and it would take up half of my precious freezer space) so I only buy crumpets or English muffins. I portion and freeze mince in zip-lock bags using this TikTok hack so it’s quick to defrost. And when I do buy something with a short shelf life, it’s already spoken for.
Whenever I’m about to attempt a new dish, I compare a few different recipes to figure out how to simplify the method and streamline the ingredient list. It’s usually pretty obvious what’s essential to the character of a dish, and what’s merely decorative. I typically eliminate garnishes (fresh herbs are expensive and I’ve never eaten something and lamented the missing sprinkle of fresh parsley) and sub in cheaper ingredients (yoghurt instead of creme fraiche, onions instead of shallots, peanuts instead of cashews, dried herbs instead of fresh). Aside from spices, I avoid buying anything I’m not going to use frequently.
The same goes for utensils and appliances: one big knife, one little knife, one soup pot and one frying pan or wok is pretty sufficient.
I doubt I could actually tell the difference between the generic supermarket version and a name brand for most products. I buy the cheapest available option for staples such as milk, butter, rice, pasta, beans, tuna, sugar, flour, oats, honey, spices and coffee (I’m not too Melbourne for no-name coffee!), so I can splurge where it counts on things like ice cream, chocolate and chilli sauce.
Know thyself: I am forever hungry, lazy, fussy and fickle. So I make sure I’m always stocked up on snacks, leftovers, ready-to-heat meals (my local supermarket sells a single-serve frozen lasagne for $2.50), and supplies for one-pot meals that I can make in 10 minutes.
A lot of my meals are just carbs and condiments: wheat noodles with spring onion oil; rice vermicelli with dark soy sauce and sesame seeds; angel hair pasta with garlic, chilli and olive oil; udon with soy sauce and a raw beaten egg; and of course Indomie Mi goreng with the lot. I usually bulk out instant noodles with some frozen veg (green beans, corn, peas) and a soft-boiled egg, all of which I just cook in the same water as the noodles, because who cares.
Dried shiitake mushrooms, nori sheets, century eggs, roasted nuts and flaked coconut are some other long-life ingredients that really jazz up a dish. Jars of minced ginger and garlic are a godsend for making a quick stir-fry at 1am. And eggs are amazingly quick, versatile and filling – I like them scrambled, fried, soft-boiled, hard-boiled, baked or steamed. Eggs scrambled with Lao Gan Ma chilli crisp feels like a fancy cafe brunch, but it only costs about $1 and five minutes of my time.
I am easily bored so I love remixing leftovers into a new dish rather than eating many portions of the same thing. Turn a sauce into a stew with beans or lentils, and add a layer of mashed potato and top with cheese to make a sort of shepherd’s pie. A soggy stir-fry can become the base for baked eggs. A pumpkin and spinach salad can transform into a frittata.
Everything is cheaper in bulk. So if you live solo, it’s worth building a posse. Recently, my friends and I started an ad hoc co-op when we bought a 2kg wheel of brie from our local discount grocery store and carved it up. I share dry goods with my family, and I am gifted a lot of fruit from my parents’ garden. And I split media and software subscriptions with my spiritual sharehouse on the other side of town.
Of course, the smartest thing I can ever do for my finances is organise and agitate for better freelance pay and conditions, higher social security payments, public housing, and renter rights. I might live alone, but I know I’m not in this alone.