January is the month our grocery tab in the spreadsheet looks the worst. The holidays blow a hole in everything, the credit card statement shows up, and I sit at the kitchen table in my robe going, okay, who bought three kinds of cheese? (Me. It was me.)
So every February I lean hard on the slow cooker. It's the cheapest, laziest, most forgiving tool in my kitchen. I load it at 7:15 before Dan leaves, and by the time I get home from the office at 5:30 on work days, dinner is just there. On home days it means I'm not trying to brown onions with a twin attached to each leg.
Theo and June are 22 months old right now, so everything below is soft, mild, and easy to shred or mash for them. Dan and I add hot sauce at the table.
How I did the math
These are the prices I actually paid at our regular grocery store and the discount store near the San Leandro line in late January. I count six servings per batch: two adults, two toddlers who eat about half an adult portion each, and leftovers for one lunch. Spices I already had are counted at a rough 25 cents per recipe, because pretending they're free feels like cheating.
| Recipe | Batch cost | Servings | Per serving |
|---|---|---|---|
| Black bean and sweet potato chili | $7.40 | 6 | $1.23 |
| Salsa chicken thighs with rice | $10.90 | 6 | $1.82 |
| Split pea soup with a ham hock | $6.80 | 6 | $1.13 |
| Lentil and carrot "sloppy joes" | $8.20 | 6 | $1.37 |
1. Black bean and sweet potato chili
This is the one I make most. Two cans of black beans (drained and rinsed), one big sweet potato cut into small cubes, one onion, a can of diced tomatoes, a cup of frozen corn, two cups of broth, and a tablespoon of chili powder plus a teaspoon of cumin. Low for seven hours.
The sweet potato mostly melts into the sauce, which is exactly why Theo eats it. He has a strict policy against visible orange food, but he can't object to what he can't see. June eats it with a spoon and her hands at the same time, somehow.
Serve it over rice or with a pan of cornbread if you're feeling ambitious. I usually am not.
2. Salsa chicken thighs
A family pack of bone-in chicken thighs was the splurge of the month at $6.50. I pull the skin off, lay the thighs in the pot, and pour a jar of mild salsa over the top with a can of pinto beans. Low for six hours, then I pull the bones out and shred everything with two forks right in the pot.
We eat it over rice the first night and in tortillas the second. Thighs are cheaper and much harder to dry out than breasts, which matters when you forget about the pot for an extra hour because someone found the permanent marker.
3. Split pea soup
I know. Split pea soup is not glamorous. But a pound bag of dried split peas cost me $1.29, and a smoked ham hock was about $3. Add a diced onion, two carrots, two celery stalks, a bay leaf, and eight cups of water. Low for eight hours, pull the hock, pick off whatever meat there is, and stir it back in.
No soaking required, which is the only reason I make it. My mom used to make this in San Jose when I was a kid, and when she comes up on Thursdays to help with the twins she always asks if there's any left. There usually isn't.
4. Lentil sloppy joes
This one surprised me. One and a half cups of dry brown lentils, a can of tomato sauce, an onion, a grated carrot, two tablespoons of brown sugar, a splash of vinegar, a squirt of mustard, and three cups of broth. Low for six hours until the lentils are soft and it thickens into something that looks exactly like sloppy joe filling.
Dan was suspicious. Dan went back for seconds. I serve it on cheap hamburger buns for us and spoon it over pasta for the twins because buns just become projectiles at our table.
A few things I've learned the hard way
- Don't fill the pot past two-thirds. I have cleaned chili off the back of the stove more than once.
- Dried beans are cheaper, but canned beans are what I actually use on a work morning. Pick your battles.
- Add dairy at the end. Cheese or sour cream stirred in for eight hours turns grainy.
- Freeze half. I'm a big believer in cooking once and eating twice, and a frozen batch of chili has rescued more than one sick-kid week.
None of these are going to win an award. But they get six dinners on the table for less than the cost of one delivery order, and on a February Tuesday that's all I need from a recipe.
