How Italy Taught the World to Cook With Fresh Nothing

My Family's Delicious $120 Grocery Budget: How Italian Peasant Cooking and AI Made It Work

Want to know a juicy secret? I’ve been feeding a family of three on about $120 a week—and we’re eating incredibly well. Real protein, fresh seasonal produce, mostly organic. Not because I’m some coupon wizard or living off-grid with goats, but because I started paying attention. To what’s in season. To what’s in my pantry already. To what actually fuels me when I’m tired and burned out.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by prices, burnout, or decision fatigue around meals (or the world in general), this is for you. This Fresh Nothing Summer Series is here to help anyone who’s over it—overwhelmed, overpriced, over-processed—and craving real food as just one part of their day that’s simple, comforting, and budget-friendly.

Fresh tomato slices and pasta. Photos by Okey Kat and Eaters Collective via Unsplash.

This post will show you how to make affordable, nourishing meals using what you already have—plus a little help from AI tools to simplify your grocery list and reduce food waste. I’ve found grounding recipes that helped me stay present, feel better, and spend less.

I am not a food genius, I’m just a regular person who barely knows how to cook in a regular kitchen, figuring it out, just like you—one simple carrot and hopeful lemon at a time.

And yet… it’s working. Because presence, not perfection, is the point. A lot of inspiration this series comes from Italian cooking—not the truffle foam kind, but the kind where a stale loaf and a bruised tomato still mean the start of an actually delicious dinner (yes for real). It’s not just about Italy, but the spirit: seasonal, simple, sensual.

I don’t care if you’re zero-waste or organic or if your plates match. I care if your food makes you feel nourished, steady, and a little proud of your own cleverness.

Hey food friends! 👋 I’m Kaitlynn a software engineer turned kitchen-experimenter, half of a food-loving couple 🍜 exploring DC (& beyond) who knows the best connections happen at a shared table 🍽️. Whether you're searching for the best hidden restaurants in Mexico City, trying to master your grandma's marinara 🍅, or just craving something real, I’m here with dishes (and discussions) that make life more interesting. Come hungry, leave inspired. ✨🍴

Blackberries on the vine. Sliced baguette. Photos by Richard Lin and Rodolfo Marqes via Unsplash.

🌱 How to Cook Real Food with Fresh Nothing, Wherever You Are

This summer, we’re going back to the roots—literally and figuratively. Inspired by Italy’s cucina povera (aka how to make magic from humble ingredients), the height of seasonal produce (even if it’s just windowsill basil), and the gentle genius of cooking in rhythm with the world around you, this fresh nothing summer series is here to help you do more with less—and actually enjoy it.

Whether you’re stretching groceries, planting herbs in recycled yogurt cups, going in search of good berries or better bread, this is for you. We’ll visit divey restaurants and dreamy ones, hunt for good berries and better bread, and prove that the snack plate is a legitimate meal structure. We’ll explore why simple ingredients still matter, how fresh food can ground us in unstable times, and what it means to build a table worth gathering around. Think tomato sauce, warm bread, backyard herbs, and summer meals that make you feel human again.

This isn’t a rustic fantasy. It’s a survival strategy, a love letter to humble ingredients and real community—one tomato, one good meal, one shared moment at a time. No fancy pantry. No special gear. Just honest food made with care, wherever you are. Bring what you have—or just your hunger. We’ll bring the salt.

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So where does all this scrappy kitchen joy come from? Blame the Italians. Or thank them. Probably both. Cucina povera—literally “peasant cooking”—was born of poverty, but it taught us how to be rich where it counts: flavor, care, and a well-timed splash of olive oil. Sure, lots of cultures turned scraps into something good, but the Italians made it famously simple and tasty. Let’s dig in.

Tuscany. Photo by Fabrizio Lunardi via Unsplash.

Cucina Povera: Resilience on a Plate

Cucina povera was born in rural Italy out of sheer necessity—home cooking without luxury, often without money, and sometimes without knowing where the next meal would come from.

Italy’s long, tangled history left many families—especially in the south—barely scraping by. Tenant farmers, day laborers, sharecroppers (mezzadri). No safety net. Almost no way to a better life. People made do with what they had: wild greens foraged from hillsides, stale bread, cheap beans, maybe a scrap of meat.

It was a cuisine of poverty, yes—but it became a cuisine of attention. Every crust of bread had a second act. Every soft tomato still had purpose. That’s where ribollita came from: yesterday’s soup, reboiled with whatever veg and bread you had. Cacio e pepe wasn’t invented by a chef with a tasting menu. It was a Roman shepherd with dried pasta and two things that kept well: cheese and pepper. These dishes didn’t start with recipes. They started with resourcefulness. With love, passed down through cast iron and calloused hands.

Cut Wheels of Cheese. Whole Peppercorns. Photos by Alexander Maasch and Sina Katrachi via Unsplash.

Then came the 20th century’s brutal decades—two world wars, the rise of fascism, the Great Depression. Food shortages, rationing, displacement. Many Italians left for the Americas. Those who stayed had fewer resources but clung to their cooking traditions—their ability to turn almost nothing into something nourishing and good.

The simple resillience of peasant cooking in Italy became famous the world over because it didn’t stay about lack. Something happened in the making. With each stirred pot and reused crust, this food became care. Presence. Even pride. A meal that said: “I see you. I made this with what I had.”

Cucina povera isn’t just making do. It’s making meaning. It’s cooking with care, especially when there’s not much else to give. It stretches ingredients, yes—but it also stretches dignity.

Today, people fly across oceans to taste what once fed Italy’s poorest families. That’s the legacy of cucina povera—a reminder that a simple, humble meal can still stop you in your tracks.

So no, you don’t need fancy truffle oil or imported sea salt to cook something unforgettable. You just need a little time. A little curiosity. A little trust in your tired carrots.

Because this kind of simple Italian home cooking still satisfies, not just our stomachs, but our souls. It reminds us that enough can be enough—and that even scrappy, imperfect cooking can be a powerful kind of hope.

And while we’re definitely not in 1940s rural Italy, we are in a moment where things feel expensive, confusing, and more than a little disconnected. The good news is that the same logic still applies.

Stovetop and Fridge at night. Photos by Erik Mclean and Ernest Brillo via Unsplash.

Real Food, Real Calm: Mindful Cooking as a Way Back to Yourself (And a Better Budget)

To me, this kind of everyday cooking is one of the simplest forms of mindfulness. Especially after years writing code, where my hands rarely did anything more physical than a keyboard shortcut. Not the sit-still, count your breaths kind, but a kind of grounded noticing. Appreciating what’s already here. What could be made. Maybe even what can be shared.

When the world feels overwhelming, this is a way to return to yourself—especially during burnout or anxiety. It’s the sound of a simmering pan, the feel of tearing basil with your fingers, the heat on your face as you taste and season until it sings. It’s not performance—it’s presence. It’s one of the oldest ways to say: I’m here. I’m alive. I made this.

So before you start a to-do list or panic-order delivery, try this instead:

Just pause.

Let’s treat this like a grounding exercise for stressed-out people who still need dinner:

Stand in your kitchen. Breathe. Let your eyes wander. A soft tomato, a dusty jar, a lemon on its last legs—that’s the beginning of a homemade meal on a budget.

Really—go look. Open the fridge. Open a cabinet. Not to critique, just to notice.

Turning scraps into a fresh, easy meal is part instinct, part grandma-wisdom, part AI-assisted meal planning (we’ll get to that soon). Here’s how it went for me:

I found tomatoes, garlic, zucchini—still edible. Half a loaf of bread so hard it could double as a doorstop. A chunk of parmesan. Olive oil and pasta. That’s it.

Zuchini. Bottlle of Olive oil. Photos by By Pils and Jonathan Ocampo via Unsplash.

I heated oil in a pot, smashed the garlic, let it hit the pan. Cut the tomatoes—tossed them in. Grabbed herbs from the yard: rosemary, sage, chives. Let them bloom. Breathed in deep, adjusted with salt and pepper.

I broke the bread into crumbs, listened to the crunch, dropped them into the sauce to thicken. Chopped zucchini, tossed it in. Boiled pasta. Grated parmesan.

On the side: dandelion greens (yes, seriously—they’re packed with nutrients, look it up) from my yard (where I know no one sprays chemicals), tossed in oil and vinegar.

In about 10–15 minutes, I’ve got a complete, fresh meal of chunky pasta marinara. I might add some protein if I have it, but even without that, it’s satisfying—often tastier and more nutritious than the $20 pasta dish I could’ve bought at a restaurant or the frozen meals I used to default to when I was too exhausted from debugging code and parenting to remember I had a stove.

Remember, recipes don't have to be rules. If you don’t have one thing, swap it. The goal is to use what you have and enjoy the process.

Yes, it takes a bit of effort—chopping, boiling, tasting—but it’s a different kind of work than emails or scrolling. This work wakes up your senses, fills your stomach, and can seriously stretch your grocery budget. And if you cook with someone else, it becomes a way to connect—not just with the food, but with each other.

Money on fire. Food in a pot. Photos by JP Valery and Gaelle Marcel via Unsplash.

This kind of cooking isn’t about lack. It’s about knowing what you’ve got and making it sing. It’s humble. It’s powerful. A delicious rebellion. It says: I can feed myself. I can make something good.

And hey—if that feels intimidating? Don’t worry. We’ve got tools. You’re not doing this alone.

How I Use AI to Meal Plan with What’s Already in My Fridge (and Save $$ Every Week)

So—you’ve paused, looked around your kitchen, and muttered, “What am I even supposed to do with this?” That’s where AI can seriously help with meal planning, especially if you're on a budget, burned out, or just plain bored. Plenty of folks are experimenting with this, but I like to think my years building machine-learning systems have helped me figure out how to prompt it pretty well.

Personally, I like to use Claude for this, but most AI tools will work similarly. No, it won’t cook for you—but it will help you come up with dinner ideas based on what you actually have at home. And when your creative energy is gone after work, that’s gold. Especially for making healthy meals that use up random ingredients before they go bad.

Machine and human hand, photo by Cash Macanaya via Unsplash. Screenshot of an AI response I got a few weeks ago.

When I write prompts, I usually include what’s in my kitchen, ask for meals high in protein and fresh produce, and add notes like “kid-friendly,” “good leftovers,” and “onions/peppers/beans on the side.” You can get as specific as you want: “Each meal should have 20g of protein,” or “Give me 1 soup, 1 cold dish, and 1 cozy dinner I can freeze.” It works.

Use anything from your fridge, pantry, or freezer—half a box of crackers, leftover takeout rice, a single zucchini. AI will help you turn those into meals that feel fresh, easy, and like something you'd actually want to eat. Don’t force yourself to make anything you’re not excited about, but do stay open to being surprised.

Once I’ve got my ingredient list, I paste the whole thing into Claude and ask for 10–15 meal ideas. I don’t follow them all to the letter—but I do get new ideas I’d never think of on my own.

And the best part?

I usually only need to buy one or two extra ingredients per meal—if anything. That’s how I keep our grocery budget around $120 a week for a family of three.

Here’s a quick example—swap in your ingredients and give it a try.

Example AI prompts:

Prompt:

I have these fresh ingredients I need to use up soon:
cooked yellow rice, chicken broth, fresh ginger, fresh uncooked chicken thighs, fresh spinach, fresh basil [ replace with your ingredients ].

I also have some longer-lasting items I’d like to use:
Greek yogurt, crumbled feta, koji marinade, cooking sake, macadamia nuts, parmesan, tomato paste, green olives, dried fettucine [ replace with your ingredients ].

Please suggest 15 simple, kid-friendly lunch or dinner ideas that are high in protein and fresh produce, using mostly these ingredients and minimal extras [ replace with your goals ].

I have basic pantry items and spices.

If a dish includes onions, peppers, or beans, please suggest ways to serve those on the side [ replace with your dietary needs ].

Thanks!

Example AI Responses:

Ginger Chicken Thigh Skewers

• Marinate chicken thighs in Koji marinade, ginger, and cooking sake

• Serve with: Fresh spinach salad with macadamia nuts

• Side: Yellow rice

Italian-inspired Chicken

• Braise chicken thighs with tomato paste and herbs

• Serve with: fettucine and a simple spinach salad

• Garnish: basil and parmesan

Once I find a dish I want to make, I’ll ask Claude for a full recipe, with measurements based on my actual ingredients and how many servings I want.

Fun fact: if you are nice (like saying please and thank you) to the chat bots, they generally perform better because they were trained on real human behavior and we also think more clearly and perform better when treated well.

Typing on a laptop and cooking tomatoes. Photos by Francesco Pinto and Christin Hume via Unsplash.

Prompt:

Ok I want to do the Italian-inspired Chicken suggestion. I have 1.47 lbs of uncooked fresh chicken thighs.

Can you please respond with a complete recipe for 4 servings, including quantities?

Try to keep it super simple and beginner friendly, give clear instructions but keep them as brief as possible.

Base your answers on real recipes that significant amounts of real people have tried and liked. And please include plenty of fresh produce and herbs and spices.

Thanks!

Response:

Super Simple Italian Chicken & Pasta

What You Need

• 1.47 lbs chicken thighs (about 6-7 pieces)

• 1/3 cup olive oil

• 1 small can tomato paste (6 oz)

• 1/2 cup chicken stock

• 2 tablespoons each: fresh rosemary, sage, basil (chopped small)

• Salt and pepper

• 4 oz fettuccine pasta

• 1/2 cup Parmesan cheese

• 2 handfuls fresh spinach

  How to Make It

  Season & Brown: Pat chicken dry, season with salt and pepper. Heat oil in big pot over medium-high heat. Brown chicken 5-6 minutes per side. Remove to plate.

  Make Sauce: Add tomato paste to same pot, stir 1 minute. Add stock and herbs. Season with salt and pepper.

  Simmer: Return chicken to pot. Cover, reduce heat to low, cook 25 minutes.

  Meanwhile: Cook pasta according to box directions. Drain.

  Finish: Add spinach to chicken pot in last 5 minutes. Let wilt.

  Serve: Put pasta in bowls, top with chicken and sauce. Sprinkle with Parmesan.

  Quick Tips

  • Recipe is very forgiving - don't stress!

  • Add more stock if sauce gets too thick

  • Chicken is done when no longer pink inside

  Time: 45 minutes | Serves: 3-4

After that, it’s a lot easier to build a shopping list. Most of the time I just need a couple small things—not a cartful. This saves mental energy and money. It also makes me feel more confident buying sale items or in-season produce—even if I’m not sure what I’ll do with them—because I know I have a system to turn them into real meals.

Grocery cart and fresh veggies. Photos by Eduardo Soares and Peter Wendt via Unsplash.

That’s how I feed a family of 3 on about $120/week.

And the more I do it, the easier it gets to keep rolling parts of today’s meal into tomorrow’s—with help from a little AI.

Now it’s your turn—try it and let me know what you come up with!

Cook Once, Eat Three Times

Here’s one way I might stretch ingredients over a few days:

Day 1: Roast a whole chicken—or just a few juicy bone-in pieces like thighs or drumsticks. Add some root veggies or halved citrus if you want to feel fancy. Eat with rice, bread, or whatever starch you have.
Day 2: Shred the leftovers and mix them with noodles and pan juices with olive oil. Maybe add a handful of spices, herbs, greens or nuts and seeds you have lying around.
Day 3: Simmer the bones with onion, celery, and a stray carrot or two. Now you’ve got chicken stock. Add rice or a few pantry staples and boom—soup night.

One bird, three meals. Simple, frugal, and comforting.

Roasted chicken and chicken soup. Photos by Anshu A and Alex Bayev via Unsplash.

And hey—if paid membership isn’t doable, we get it. But even a one-time donation keeps the feast going. Thanks for being part of this table.

The Tomato Journal

Tomatoes are the heart of summer—and the unofficial mascot of this series. Resilient, generous, and gloriously adaptable in both garden beds and fresh weeknight meals, they’re the perfect symbol for what we’re building here: slower food, stronger roots, and a little more human connection. We’re not farmers (we’re software folks, mostly), but we’re trying to learn from the ground up—literally.

Every post in this Fresh Nothing Summer Series includes this Tomato Journal: a short check-in on how our little backyard container garden is doing. Sprouts, setbacks, and small wins all count. Even when things flop, we’re collecting real data—AI-powered meal planning meets dirt-under-the-nails living.

Tomato seedlings, one in it's own pot and some others sharing space.

Current status: A few weeks ago, we planted tomato seeds in different spots. The ones we sowed straight into the soil? Nada. (Earthworms may have staged a mutiny.) But the ones in pots? Sprouted! The seedlings with more space are thriving—greener, taller, and less tangled. Next step: transplant the strongest into larger containers and test out sunnier corners of the yard. I’m also trying that tomato-basil companion planting trick with a rooted basil plant I grabbed from the grocery store. Supposedly it boosts flavor and fends off pests. We’ll see if science agrees with the old wives.

This Isn’t a Hobby. It’s a Way Through.

This isn’t a nostalgia trip. It’s not even just about food. It is a hack but in a way that is hopefully a call back to something real. It’s about reclaiming your attention span, and your appetite when everything feels like it’s on fire. Real meals. Real ingredients. Real connection. That’s the opposite of burnout. And it starts with choosing freshness—not as a trend, but as a way back to ourselves.

Doing the most with what you have will look different for everyone. In a hyper-processed food culture, real food is counter-cultural and often hard to access. Not everyone can (or wants to) raise chickens or live near a co-op. But a basil plant on the windowsill? A peach that actually tastes like summer? That might be within reach—and it can change how you eat, spend, and even feel in your own skin.

Fresh peaches and fresh basil. Photos by Vlad Deep and Oscar Hlgstrand via Unsplash.

Next up, we’re diving into how to source real fresh ingredients however you can: windowsill herbs, seasonal finds, and even how to find and talk to local farmers. No gatekeeping. Just a guide to something real and good, one local ingredient at a time. Food that connects you to where you are and who grows it. Food that reminds you that simple isn’t a compromise—it’s a power move.

So yeah—let’s salt some tomatoes. Let’s eat on porches and curbs and couches. Let’s learn from the Italians, the grannies, the line cooks, and the plants that grow sideways in plastic pots. Let’s cook like we’re broke and fabulous. Let’s eat like queens anyway.

The table’s open. The food is honest. And this slow, scrappy summer is just getting started.

What’s your favorite budget meal trick or go-to pantry rescue dish? Share it in the comments—I’d love to try it!

P.S. Yes, I still love building software. But these days, feeding my well family on a budget—with a little tech help and a lot of real food—feels like a good system design challenge too.

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