The Great Depression, spanning from 1929 to the late 1930s, was a time of economic hardship that forced millions of Americans to rethink how they lived, worked, and ate. Families stretched every penny, relying on simple, cheap, and filling ingredients to survive. Fast forward to today, with inflation and rising costs, I wondered: could I live on $5 a day for food, mimicking the resourcefulness of the Depression era? To find out, I spent a week eating only meals inspired by recipes and food practices from that time. This article chronicles my experience, exploring the challenges, surprises, and lessons learned while trying to eat on a budget that, even in 2025, feels impossibly tight.
Setting the Stage: Why $5 a Day?
In 2025, $5 doesn’t buy much. A single fast-food meal can easily exceed that, and even basic groceries like a loaf of bread or a carton of eggs push the limit. During the Depression, families often had even less, with food budgets sometimes dipping below the equivalent of $1 a day in today’s dollars. I chose $5 as a modern approximation, adjusted for inflation but still restrictive enough to mirror the scarcity mindset of the era. My rules were simple: stick to a $5 daily budget (totaling $35 for the week), use only ingredients and recipes common in the 1930s, and avoid modern conveniences like processed snacks or takeout.
To prepare, I researched Depression-era cookbooks, like The American Frugal Housewife (1832, still popular in the 1930s) and pamphlets from the era, which emphasized stretching ingredients like flour, potatoes, and beans. I also scoured historical records for common dishes: think bread soup, boiled cabbage, and “Hoover stew” (a mix of whatever was on hand). My goal wasn’t just to survive but to understand the ingenuity of those who lived through such lean times.
Planning the Week: The $35 Budget
My first task was grocery shopping. I headed to a local discount store, armed with a calculator and a list of Depression-era staples: potatoes, flour, beans, cabbage, carrots, onions, milk, eggs, cheap cuts of meat (like bacon ends or chicken backs), and pantry basics like salt, sugar, and lard. Here’s how my $35 broke down:
Potatoes (10 lbs): $4.00
Flour (5 lbs): $2.50
Dry beans (2 lbs, pinto): $2.00
Cabbage (2 heads): $3.00
Carrots (2 lbs): $2.00
Onions (2 lbs): $2.00
Milk (1 gallon): $4.00
Eggs (dozen): $3.50
Bacon ends (1 lb): $3.50
Chicken backs (2 lbs): $3.00
Lard (1 lb): $2.50
Salt, sugar, baking powder (small amounts): $3.50
Total: $35.00
I stayed within budget by skipping luxuries like butter, fresh fruit, or coffee (a Depression-era rarity for many). My menu would rely heavily on starchy, filling foods, with small amounts of protein and fat for flavor. I planned meals like potato soup, bean stew, cabbage and carrot slaw, and homemade bread, with occasional eggs or bacon scraps for variety.
Day 1: The Reality of Simplicity
I started with enthusiasm, making a pot of potato soup for lunch: boiled potatoes, onions, a splash of milk, and a pinch of salt. It was bland but filling, costing about $0.75 for two servings. For dinner, I fried up some bacon ends and used the grease to flavor a pan of cornbread (flour, baking powder, water, and a little lard). Total cost: $1.50. Breakfast was a boiled egg and a slice of cornbread, about $0.75.
The first day felt like an adventure. The food was plain but satisfying, and I was proud of my frugality. But I quickly noticed the lack of variety—no spices beyond salt, no fresh herbs, no sweetness unless I used my precious sugar. I also realized how labor-intensive everything was. Making bread from scratch took time, and cleaning up after cooking with lard was messy. By evening, I was hungry again, and my $5 budget didn’t allow for snacking.
Day 2: Hunger Creeps In
By day two, the novelty wore off. Breakfast was another boiled egg and cornbread, but I was already craving something crunchy or sweet. Lunch was a bowl of bean stew (beans, onion, a carrot, and bacon scraps), costing $1.00. Dinner was cabbage boiled with a bit of bacon grease and a side of potatoes, about $1.25. Total: $3.00.
The bean stew was hearty but monotonous, and I started to understand why Depression-era families leaned so heavily on starches—they fill you up cheap. I also felt the absence of caffeine; coffee was a luxury I couldn’t afford, and water got boring fast. By mid-afternoon, I was lethargic, likely from the lack of variety and nutrients. I wondered how families managed this for years, not just a week.
Day 3: The Emotional Toll
Day three was tough. I woke up craving fruit, but my budget didn’t allow for it. Breakfast was—you guessed it—cornbread and a boiled egg ($0.75). Lunch was more potato soup ($0.75), and dinner was a “Hoover stew” of leftover beans, potatoes, and cabbage scraps, flavored with a tiny bit of bacon ($1.50). Total: $3.00.
The emotional weight of eating the same foods hit hard. I felt isolated, as if I were missing out on the joy of eating. Depression-era families often shared meals to cope, but alone in my kitchen, I felt the monotony keenly. I also noticed how much time cooking took—hours each day to boil, chop, and clean. This wasn’t just a budget challenge; it was a test of endurance.
Day 4: Getting Creative
By day four, I needed to shake things up. I researched more Depression-era tricks and found recipes for “poor man’s cake” (a simple bread with sugar and lard) and fried dough, both cheap ways to add variety. Breakfast was a slice of poor man’s cake ($0.50), lunch was bean stew with extra carrots ($1.00), and dinner was fried dough with a side of boiled cabbage ($1.25). Total: $2.75.
The cake was a morale booster, even if it was dense and barely sweet. Frying dough in lard felt indulgent, but it was still within budget. I also started to appreciate the ingenuity of the era—families used every scrap, from bacon grease to vegetable peels, to make meals stretch. I saved onion skins and carrot tops for a makeshift broth, which added flavor without cost.
Day 5: The Nutritional Question
By now, I was feeling the nutritional gaps. My meals lacked vitamins from fresh produce, and I was tired despite eating enough calories. Breakfast was cornbread and a boiled egg ($0.75), lunch was leftover Hoover stew ($1.00), and dinner was a small portion of chicken back soup (chicken, onion, carrot, and potato, $1.50). Total: $3.25.
I researched Depression-era health and found that malnutrition was common, with diseases like pellagra (from niacin deficiency) plaguing those who relied too heavily on corn and starches. My diet, while cheap, was low in vitamins A, C, and D. I craved greens or citrus but couldn’t afford them. This made me reflect on how privilege shapes access to nutrition, even today.
Day 6: Social Isolation
Eating on $5 a day was isolating. I couldn’t join friends for dinner or grab a coffee, as every cent went to my budget. Breakfast was poor man’s cake ($0.50), lunch was potato soup ($0.75), and dinner was bean stew with a fried egg ($1.25). Total: $2.50.
I missed the social aspect of food—sharing a pizza, splitting a dessert. Depression-era families often ate together, making meals a communal event despite the scarcity. Alone, I felt the weight of restriction. I also noticed how much mental energy budgeting took—constantly calculating costs and portions was exhausting.
Day 7: Lessons Learned
The final day felt like a victory lap. I made it through with a breakfast of cornbread ($0.50), a lunch of chicken soup ($1.50), and a dinner of cabbage slaw and fried dough ($1.25). Total: $3.25. I stayed under $5 each day, averaging about $3 daily, which left me with a small surplus.
Reflecting on the week, I was struck by the resilience of Depression-era families. They didn’t just survive; they found ways to make do with scraps, turning flour and water into bread, bones into broth. I also gained a deeper appreciation for modern conveniences—spices, fresh produce, and the ability to eat out occasionally. My diet was sustainable for a week but would be grueling long-term, both nutritionally and emotionally.
The Bigger Picture: Can You Live on $5 a Day?
Technically, yes—you can survive on $5 a day by sticking to Depression-era staples like potatoes, beans, and flour. But it’s not easy. The diet is repetitive, labor-intensive, and nutritionally limited. It also isolates you socially and mentally, as food becomes a math problem rather than a source of joy. In 2025, with grocery prices rising, $5 stretches less than it did even a few years ago, making this challenge even harder.
This experiment also highlighted systemic issues. During the Depression, government programs like food relief and soup kitchens helped some families, but many still went hungry. Today, food insecurity remains a reality for millions, with SNAP benefits and food banks stretched thin. My week was a choice; for many, it’s a necessity.
Conclusion
Living on $5 a day eating Depression-era food was a humbling experience. It taught me about resourcefulness, the value of small luxuries, and the emotional toll of scarcity. While I succeeded in staying within budget, the week underscored how much we take for granted—variety, flavor, and the ability to share meals with others. If you’re considering a similar challenge, prepare for hard work and lean on community if you can. The Depression era showed us that ingenuity and resilience can go far, but no one should have to live like this forever.
