For Apral Jack, deciding what to put on the dinner table now starts long before she ever sets foot in a grocery store.
Jack, 50, pulls up a supermarket app before every shopping trip to track down the best deals. Once inside the store, she combs through the weekly circular for any coupons she may have overlooked. If prices on the shelves seem too steep, she heads somewhere else entirely.
“The apples went up here, the ones I eat, so now I’m not going to get them here,” Jack said while pushing her cart into a Stop & Shop near her home in Lexington, Massachusetts.
Jack is far from alone. Millions of Americans are now clipping coupons, comparing prices across stores, and cutting beloved items from their carts as they cope with the steepest rise in grocery costs in 50 years. Since the start of 2019, the price of food purchased for home has jumped 33%, according to federal government data.
With tensions in the Middle East adding even more pressure to food costs, the affordability of stocking a kitchen has emerged as a defining issue in the fall midterm elections.
People living in four urban areas where food inflation has outpaced the national average spoke about how relentless price increases have reshaped their shopping behavior. They described hunting for bargains, switching to store-brand products, and being thankful for food banks. Some have cut back on meat or stopped buying treats like cookies altogether. Others are simply purchasing less food than before.
For many Americans, beef has become the symbol of runaway grocery prices. Ground beef hit $6.82 per pound in June — a staggering 79% increase compared to early 2019, according to Bureau of Labor Statistics data.
Ada Torres, 60, who lives in Cleveland, Texas, roughly 45 miles northeast of Houston, has stopped buying it. Torres handles the grocery shopping and cooking for her household, which includes her daughter and three grandchildren.
“Prices are sky-high. One hundred dollars’ worth of groceries these days is nothing,” Torres said.
Her family now relies primarily on chicken and cold cuts for protein, since fresh meat has become an unaffordable luxury. Her grandchildren — ages 12, 15, and 16 — have been left missing meals they once enjoyed, including lasagna with ground beef, beef fajitas, and steak served with plantain chips.
Torres’ daughter serves as the household’s main breadwinner, working for a mobile car-washing service. During the rainy season, that work dries up, and the family sometimes can only afford one full meal a day, Torres said.
Back in Massachusetts, Apral Jack — a care provider who also works part-time for Amazon — no longer has children at home to feed. Still, she shops far more carefully than she used to. Rather than browsing the aisles of Whole Foods, she now builds her weekly meals around whatever is discounted.
“Typically, I’ll try to pick the meals based on that. So like chicken fajitas: there was a three-day sale on chicken,” Jack said.
Nabisco Ginger Snaps and Nilla Wafers have been crossed off her list for good. She won’t substitute store-brand versions — to her, they simply don’t taste right.
San Francisco has long been celebrated for its food culture, but for 33-year-old Jack Chang, food is more of a financial burden than a pleasure. The self-employed barber supports three young children and a partner who is currently out of work.
“Since I have five mouths I have to feed, basically — and then sometimes my mom, too — it’s a lot on me financially,” Chang said.
Luxuries like boba milk tea or artisanal ice cream are out of the question for his family. They treat themselves to $1 ice cream cones at a Japanese entertainment center. The only organic item they buy is milk.
“I look at my credit card every month and I’m like, ‘Wow, how am I going to pay this?’ So I’m a little behind on bills, honestly,” Chang said.
When his 4-year-old daughter’s preschool has leftover meat or bread, Chang’s partner, Tina Chhous, makes a point of taking it home. Chhous also receives monthly assistance through the federal Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, known as SNAP.
“Without that, I don’t know what I would do,” Chang said.
Chang’s 77-year-old mother, Lien, also receives SNAP benefits and makes weekly visits to two separate food banks. Whatever canned goods, eggs, and produce she collects, she shares with the rest of the family.
Residents of Hawaii have always paid a premium for groceries. The state imports nearly all of its food via cargo ships traveling thousands of miles, leaving prices especially vulnerable when oil markets spike.
Local Hawaiian products have also become more expensive this year. Shipping costs between the Hawaiian Islands surged due to rising fuel prices connected to the conflict involving Iran.
Amanda Tabadero, 28, a pastry chef on the island of Oahu, recalls paying $7.99 per pound for Maui-grown strawberries and blueberries in 2024. Now priced at $11, she instead buys berries from California or Mexico at Costco for $5 when she bakes.
Tabadero says she’s also unlikely to purchase lychee anytime soon. The Kaimana variety, grown in Hawaii, primarily comes from the Big Island. She recently paid $30 in Honolulu’s Chinatown for just an iced coffee and a bag of fruit.
“It makes me sad,” Tabadero said. “I want to use local stuff.”
