So long, single-girl dinner. I spent a week re-creating takeout meals to see if cooking for one gets any easier (or cheaper).
Back in 2016, a lifetime and multiple jobs ago, I publicly lamented that the worst thing about being single is all the soup. It was the end of a long winter, and I had grown sick of soup serving sizes that left me, the lone occupant of my studio apartment, with a freezer full of bygone broccoli cheddar, forgotten French onion ... you get the idea.
Don't get me wrong; I love to cook and I love to eat, and I do plenty of both. But the production, the leftovers, the mess — it sometimes seems like more trouble than it's worth for one person.
And yet, at the same time, I'm not much interested in takeout either. I rarely order in, and when I think about doing it, I often find myself filling a cart, experiencing sticker shock over the service fees charged by third-party delivery apps and promptly jumping ship. Plus, in my experience, half the fun of ordering delivery is getting a bunch of things to share. Doing that on my own feels indulgent and wasteful.
Most evenings, I can be found dousing pieces of tinned fish in hot sauce over crackers or eating cold Costco rotisserie chicken with my hands over the sink. Delicacies, in my humble opinion.
According to 2020 census data, over a quarter of American homes are one-person households like mine — a figure that has tripled since 1940. And I'm not exactly alone in my denial of delivery. Among my fellow millennials, 48.5% of married couples order takeout once per week; for singles, it's 31.8%.
Still, I wondered: Is there a better way to do dinner for one? Was I depriving myself of takeout that might actually save me time, money and freezer space? Or is cooking actual meals (vs. my version of 'girl dinner') the cheaper, more practical option? I decided to find out by re-creating classic takeout dishes at home.
The challenge
First, I picked a menu. After consulting this list of Grubhub's most-ordered dishes of 2022, I went through and picked four favorites: a burrito, pizza, Caesar salad and a cheeseburger. Then I went rogue and added orange chicken to the mix, since on the rare occasions that I do order delivery, it's usually Chinese food.
Next, I mock-ordered my five chosen dishes online from national chains to see how much they would set me back. I noticed something immediately: On almost every website, I was asked — even encouraged — to upgrade my order to a bigger portion or tack on an add-on for a slightly higher cost. Hello, don't they realize I'm trying to end up with less food, not more?
Instead of submitting these online orders, I whipped up a grocery list to DIY these dishes at home over the next few days. Here's how my cooking skills and cents stacked up to these mainstays of American takeout.
Day 1: Domino's pepperoni pizza
I was so excited to get started on this culinary experiment. So excited, in fact, that I left my keys at home when I left for work. I was locked out of my house (with no partner or roommate around to save the day) before I even had a chance to get to the supermarket. By the time I did get to my local Wegmans, it was 9 p.m. Nothing says 'I'm single' like being alone, at a Wegmans, at 9 p.m.
I had some pizza decisions to make. Should I make my own dough, or buy it premade? Should I go out and buy a pizza oven, or was I already overthinking this assignment?
As the clock ticked onward, I made the executive decision to go with a full block of mozzarella over the pre-shredded stuff and save time elsewhere with a premade dough. The only kind left was whole wheat, but I thought, How different could it be?
Reader, let me tell you. It's pretty different.
The first joke was on me when I got home and noticed the note on the bag: 'Bring dough to room temperature, one to two hours.' Great. It was already late at this point; I probably wouldn't have been able to order a pizza even if I wanted to. So, I let the dough rest for about an hour before I lost patience and started trying to soften it up with my hands. Because I don't own a pizza stone, I had to make myself a square pie.
It was ... fine? Not great. The crust was too thick, too sweet. The cheese, sauce and pepperoni were good, but I was left with — what do you know! — a ton of leftovers I wasn't particularly in the mood to bring for lunch with me all week. The pizza is still in my fridge, waiting to get thrown out.
Time spent: 3 hours
What a delivery app would charge (including fees, tax and tip): $20.12
Money spent on ingredients: $14.60, roughly $1.80 per serving
Score: -10,000/10
Days 2-3: McDonald's burger and fries
I'll be honest, after the midnight pizza debacle, I didn't have high hopes for day two. And I was right not to. After reading through the copycat McDonald's french fries recipe I'd found by Googling, erm, 'copycat McDonald's fries recipe,' I found out that you're supposed to slice your potatoes into fry shapes, then soak them in a sugar/vinegar brine for anywhere from two to 24 hours. The drive-through already had the edge in the time department.
In any event, I had the burger meat ready to go, and so I forged on, knowing that at the very least, I'd have three extra patties ready to eat tomorrow alongside my fries.
I followed this copycat cheeseburger recipe, which didn't call for pre-seasoning. After tasting one, I realized that was a bad move; it needed some oomph. I also didn't think the rehydrated minced onion the recipe did recommend was worth $5.99. But overall, the burgers were fun to make, pretty tasty and not super time-consuming.
And once I did get to make the fries, they were the star of the show. They were delicious, and definitely close enough to the real thing. I guess the brine time paid off.
Time spent: 24 hours
What a delivery app would charge: $19
Money spent on ingredients: $35.80, roughly $8.95 per serving
Score: 9/10
Day 4: Sweetgreen kale Caesar salad with grilled chicken
I was excited about this dish, mostly because I already had a kale Caesar salad recipe in my arsenal that I use all the time. But my excitement was deflated when I realized the chicken I wanted to use for this recipe wasn't defrosted — because I, the only person who lives in my house, hadn't taken it out of the freezer. I used an extra, already-cooked piece of chicken I found in the fridge, and took out the rest of the chicken to defrost for the next day.
In the meantime, I got out my ingredients to make a mayo-based dressing, during which time I promptly found out my Worcestershire sauce expired in 2023. For the record, I used it and it was fine. But it got me thinking that a single person likely never really goes through an entire bottle of Worcestershire sauce.
I also did not have Parm crisps, as the recipe demands, but I was able to improvise with some Parmesan cheese and stale sourdough bread. I cut up the bread, sprinkled some Parm on the cubes and air fried them to create a cheesy crouton crunch vibe. It worked (mostly).
I also realized midway through that my food processor was broken, which meant I had to use an immersion blender to get the dressing together. It also only kind of worked, and I ended up having to mash up a bunch of the anchovies in with a fork. It was not the most time-efficient endeavor, and it made me late for work.
Honestly, though: I think this salad was better than Sweetgreen.
Time spent: 1.5 hours
What a delivery app would charge: $21.99
Money spent on ingredients: $31.23, roughly $7.80 per serving
Score: 9/10
Day 5: Panda Express orange chicken
I make a lot of Asian-inspired meals for myself, and while orange chicken isn't necessarily my first choice, it sounded like more of a challenge than my standard go-tos.
I quickly realized I was missing an orange, a pretty crucial ingredient for this dish. But I figured orange juice would do the heavy lifting. I zested a lemon and got to work. The recipe itself wasn't that hard, though it was a little messy. After cutting my chicken breast into bite-size pieces and dredging them in egg and flour, it was time to fry them up. I normally probably would use my air fryer in lieu of actual frying, but I wanted to stay true to the recipe I'd found.
The frying took the longest, while the sauce actually came together quickly and easily. I'm not sure if I had just gotten into a cooking groove, but making these meals started to feel simpler.
I made rice, tossed the golden pieces of chicken in the sauce and dinner was served. I feel like of all the dishes I made, this one was definitely the closest to the real thing. It tasted like fast food in a way that made me feel a little happy, and a little sick.
Time spent: 2 hours
What a delivery app would charge: $17.81
Money spent on ingredients: $23.81, roughly $5.95 per serving
Score: 9/10
Day 6: Chipotle burrito
I'll be honest with you, I was about ready to be done with this challenge by this point. By the time I was able to make the final meal, the guacamole I bought had gone bad. I'd run out of chicken and had to buy more. I was second-guessing the shredded Mexican cheese blend I had. I was tired of cooking. My refrigerator was bursting at the seams with leftovers. And I was pretty much convinced that I had no idea how to roll a burrito.
Still, I trudged on. I seasoned the chicken thighs with a sazón spice blend, along with a few other seasonings, and set them to air fry. Then, I cooked the rice and stirred in black beans. In a last-minute Hail Mary, I cooked down some tomatoes and onions, then blended them up to be salsa-esque, but the flavor was pretty off.
It was also really ... not much to look at. And it didn't taste that good either. My homemade version definitely did not hold a candle to burritos I've eaten out in the world.
Time spent: 2 hours
What a delivery app would charge: $16.06
Money spent on ingredients: $32.13, roughly $8 per serving
Score: 4/10
The verdict
Buying groceries to replicate takeout meals can add up, but when you factor in how many servings you're getting (yep — leftovers again), it comes out to being cheaper. But cooking requires time, something most people don't have. Getting dinner delivered is undoubtedly more convenient — making pizza late at night is not sustainable — but that convenience comes at a cost.
I also have some big concerns about our food delivery system, and the culture around delivery in general. We are conditioned to believe that we can get whatever our hearts desire, delivered directly to our doorstep, in record time. In New York, where I live, this puts intense pressure on the people hired to deliver that food, often putting them in precarious situations as they zip around trying to make quotas for third-party delivery apps. It might be 'cheaper,' but not once you start accounting for the human cost. There are also, of course, environmental implications.
After a week of eating homemade takeout dupes, I was not inspired to order delivery. If anything, I realized that if and when I do want to eat something I haven't cooked for myself, it makes more sense to get out into the world, pop into a local business, bypass the interference (and fees) of third-party apps and pick something up myself. Not only will it be easier on my wallet, it will also be easier on my mind.
For now, I most likely will maintain my standing-over-the-sink-eating-cold-rotisserie-chicken and tinned fish lifestyle — and sprinkle in some homemade McDonald's-style french fries when the mood strikes.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
We Had A Life That Looked Good On The Surface. Then We Sold Everything We Owned To Travel The World Full Time.
When my husband and I told people we were selling everything we owned to travel full time, most assumed we were either having a midlife crisis or chasing an early retirement fantasy. The truth is, it was neither. It was something we couldn't quite explain at the time, only that we felt called to do it. We were 50-something empty nesters with 35 years of marriage under our belt. We had four grown daughters and nine grandkids, a house we loved, a business we'd built, and a life that, on the surface, looked good. And it was good, even if we felt like something was missing. We had fallen into a rhythm that felt more like repetition. It was like living the same day over and over again. Then, during COVID, I had a cancer scare. It turned out to be benign, but in the long, terrifying weeks of waiting, everything shifted. All the routines and responsibilities that once felt essential suddenly seemed arbitrary. I realized how easily we could run out of time, and how much of our lives we had spent putting things off. That experience cracked something open in us. We started asking harder questions. What if we stopped waiting for the right time? What if we actually did the thing we always said we'd do 'someday'? We started joking about 'running away' and living out of a suitcase. Then the jokes turned into spreadsheets. Spreadsheets turned into lists. And before we knew it, we were sitting on our living room floor, surrounded by decades of stuff, packing up donations and wondering if we'd completely lost our minds. Spoiler: We had. In the best possible way. We sold the house, the cars, even the furniture. We got rid of the lawnmower, the sectional, and the juicer I swore I'd use one day. We kept what we could carry in two suitcases, put a few special things in storage, and had a sense of purpose that was both thrilling and terrifying. We boarded a one-way flight to Bali with vague plans to return for Christmas. We had no fixed itinerary and absolutely no idea what we were doing. That was two years ago. Since then, we've lived in 15 countries, traveled more than 120,000 miles, and learned more about ourselves than we did in the previous 30 years combined. The logistics were tough, but the emotional part was even harder. How do you explain to your adult kids that you're leaving? Not just for a week or two, but for the foreseeable future. That you're skipping the stability you once preached and embracing a lifestyle that even you don't fully understand? There were tears. There was confusion. There were hugs and heart-to-hearts and promises to FaceTime. One of our grandkids asked if we were going to live in space. Another said, 'You'll be back in a week.' I laughed at the time, but part of me wondered if they were right. Some of them think we're on every airplane they see in the sky. You should see the looks of confusion when we're actually with them and they see a plane overhead. I wrestled with guilt in ways I never expected. I had been a mom for so long, and was so excited to be a grandmother. It felt strange to center myself in the story of my own life. What kind of woman chooses adventure over baking cookies with her grandkids? But here's the thing. I spent decades making sure everyone else was OK. This was the first time I asked what I wanted. And what I wanted was to live intentionally, explore the world with my husband, and create a new kind of legacy, one built not just on stability, but on curiosity and courage. When we landed in Bali, it was raining. We ended up booking a beautiful Airbnb that turned out to be way out in the countryside. There was a beach across the street, but no grocery stores nearby and no public transportation. That first night, we sat in our villa and quietly wondered if we'd made a huge mistake. And then something shifted. We found rhythm in the chaos. We rented a scooter and slowly started exploring. We began falling in love with our little town of Balian. We didn't know what we were doing and that was the point. We woke up every day with nothing to do and nowhere to be. It was a kind of freedom we hadn't known since our 20s. We explored neighborhoods on foot, tried foods we couldn't pronounce, got lost, and found hidden cafés and quiet moments that reminded us why we were doing this. Some days were magic. Other days were mundane. This wasn't a vacation. It was life, just in a new time zone, with monkeys, surfing and nasi goreng. We started sharing our journey online through our blog, and our Instagram. What began as a way to keep family updated quickly turned into something more: a space to inspire others who felt like they had missed their shot at adventure. People would message us saying, 'I didn't know you could do this at 50,' or, 'My kids are grown and I feel stuck. Thank you for showing another way.' That was when we realized this wasn't just our story. It was something bigger. One of the most surprising things we learned? You don't have to be extremely wealthy to travel full time. We live on $3,000 a month, and sometimes even less. We rent long-term Airbnbs in walkable neighborhoods. We cook most of our meals. We take public transportation and book flights based on what's cheapest, not what's most convenient. Letting the deal determine the destination has taken us to places we never expected: Vietnam, Thailand, even France and Spain. Some of our favorite places were ones we'd never even considered. People often assume travel is all luxury and leisure, but the truth is, this lifestyle is as much about problem-solving as it is about passports. We've dealt with visa mix-ups, broken washing machines, language barriers, food poisoning, lost luggage, and a phone that got stolen on the metro on our first day in Paris. We've also had more conversations with strangers, more spontaneous dance parties, and more 'I can't believe this is our life' moments than we can count. The hardest part isn't travel; it's the distance. I won't sugarcoat it. Being away from our kids and grandkids is the hardest part. We've missed birthday parties and baby teeth and all the little in-between moments you don't realize are sacred until you're watching them on a screen. I've cried in hotel rooms and on train platforms. I've questioned whether we're doing the right thing more times than I can count. But I've also learned that presence isn't just physical. We send voice memos and pictures. We read bedtime stories over Zoom. We send postcards from every city we visit. We help with piano practice over FaceTime. We tell them about the world and how big and beautiful it is, and that they can be part of it, too. And when we do visit home, which we plan intentionally a few times a year, our time together feels richer, deeper, more present. Because we're not exhausted. We're not running on empty or counting the minutes until the weekend. We're showing up as our fullest selves. There's this myth that by 50, you should have it all figured out. That reinvention is for the young. That it's too late to start over. But the truth is, this chapter, the one after raising kids, building careers, and checking all the boxes, can be the most freeing of all. Success used to look like a paid-off mortgage, a big career, and a packed calendar. Now, it looks like a morning walk through a market in Bali or working from a quiet French café in a town square. It looks like having time to think, to connect, to breathe. It also looks like learning to trust myself again. To make decisions not based on expectations, but on intuition. To be OK with not knowing what comes next. And the most surprising part? The more we've embraced uncertainty, the more certain we feel. If you're reading this and thinking, That sounds amazing, but I could never do that, I want you to know: I thought that, too. I also know what a privilege it is to be able to choose this path. Not everyone has the flexibility, resources or support to travel the world full time, and I'm deeply grateful every day that we get to live this way. We didn't have it all figured out. Honestly, we still don't. But we did it anyway. And that's what made it meaningful. You don't have to sell everything and move abroad to reclaim your life. But you can say yes to something that scares you. You can want more, even if your life looks full on paper. You can choose yourself, even if you've spent years choosing everyone else. This isn't a story about travel. It's a story about permission. About listening to the little whisper inside that says, 'What if?' and then daring to find out. We're still figuring it out, one country, one mistake, one unforgettable moment at a time. But if there's one thing I know for sure, it's this: It's never too late to live a life that feels like your own. A travel writer, blogger, and grandmother of nine who has lived in 15 countries, Shelly Peterson shares honest travel stories and tips at and runs a flight deal service that helps travelers chase their own adventures When she's not exploring a new destination, you can usually find her playing the harp, trying new recipes or soaking up the sun by the ocean. Do you have a compelling personal story you'd like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we're looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@ Solve the daily Crossword
Fox News
2 hours ago
- Fox News
Plane wreckage lodged in tree after aircraft crashes into front yard
A small plane crashed into the yard of a home outside Atlanta, Georgia, over the weekend. All three passengers onboard were transported to a trauma center. (WANF)
CBS News
2 hours ago
- CBS News
Arvada police, Colorado Parks and Wildlife to discuss reported coyote aggression in neighborhoods
Police in Arvada said they've received more reports of dogs hurt or killed by coyotes in recent months. The reports are coming from neighborhoods near Lookout Park, where two different dens of coyotes have taken up residence. Now Colorado Parks and Wildlife is getting involved. Sara Mullinix, a Lookout Park resident of Arvada, has been living in the neighborhood for five years and remembers the first time she came face-to-face with a coyote. "I was down in the open space running by myself, and I saw a coyote and a pup," she told CBS Colorado. "I was freaked out by it." While initially unnerving, she, like many others in the area, is now used to their presence. "I see people around with their dogs and children, and it's like 'huh, there's another coyote'," she explained. "They did scare me a bit, but now I just know they're a part of where we live." Others in the area say that the problems have started to come to a head, so much so that on Monday, Aug. 11 at the Whisper Creek Station, the Arvada Police Department and Colorado Parks & Wildlife will be holding an event helping residents live and coexist with the wild animals that make the open space home. Some residents have taken to social media, bringing up concerns about pet deaths in the area and attacks on family dogs by coyotes coming onto their property. Holly Cheong has never had such problems in her ten years in Lookout Park but has had moments where she's known to step out of the way of the wildlife. "That was the first time I went towards it, and it wouldn't move," she remembers. "I didn't know why it wouldn't move, and then I saw the little babies, and yeah... I don't mess with moms and their kids." While most in the Lookout Park area indicated to CBS Colorado that they were, more or less, accustomed to the routine coyote sighting on the street, others online expressed fear about the possibility of coyotes attacking another pet or even a small child. Colorado Parks and Wildlife says on their website that coyotes can lose fear of humans in urban settings and notes that if a coyote den is nearby in open space to contact that park's managing authority. Residents believe that there are two in the gulch near the Leyden/Lookout Park area. But in spite of the concerns, longtime residents like Cheong say having to co-exist with the animals that have historically made their homes in the foothills is just a part of living life in those types of spaces, noting that it felt as though there were more wild animals when she first moved in. "There was a lot more," she said. "My neighbors saw a moose and it was a little more extreme. Since it's filled out, we just have more urban wildlife like coyotes." Monday's meeting will take place between 5:30 and 7 p.m. Colorado Parks and Wildlife has more information about living with wildlife in urban spaces online.
