I went vegan in college — here are the 7 cheap meals that saved me

Going plant-based in college forced me to learn two things fast: how not to starve, and how not to go broke.

I didn’t have a fancy blender or a Whole Foods budget. I had a microwave, a beat-up pot, and a stubborn streak. That turned out to be plenty.

Below are the seven budget meals that kept me fed through late-night study sessions and early-morning classes. They’re flexible, pantry-friendly, and forgiving. As Michael Pollan put it, “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.”

That line became my north star.

Let’s dig in.

1. Pantry chili

This is the first thing I learned to cook that made me feel like an adult.

Open a can of beans (any kind), a can of tomatoes, and a small can of corn if you like. Sauté half an onion and a clove of garlic in a splash of oil, dump in the cans, add chili powder, cumin, salt, and a little sugar to balance the acidity.

Simmer 15 minutes. That’s it.

Why it saved me: the leftovers get better overnight. I’d ladle it over rice, tuck it in a tortilla, or thin it with water for soup. If I had an extra $2, I’d crumble in a store-brand veggie burger or diced potatoes for bulk.

No onion? Use onion powder. No spices? A spoonful of salsa will do.

Pro move: make a double batch on Sunday. It’s meal prep without the spreadsheet.

2. Peanut butter noodles

You know those nights when you’re wiped and the dining hall is closed? Peanut noodles were my superhero cape.

Cook any pasta or ramen. In a mug, stir 2 tablespoons peanut butter, 1 tablespoon soy sauce, a squeeze of lime or splash of vinegar, a little sugar, and enough hot water to loosen.

Toss with the noodles. Chili flakes if you like heat. Frozen peas go straight in the pot during the last minute of boiling.

I learned that taste is teachable. Add a dash of vinegar if it’s flat, a pinch of sugar if it’s sharp, salt if it’s dull. “No one is born a great cook, one learns by doing,” Julia Child reminded me. These noodles are practice in a bowl.

Wallet tip: peanut butter is a protein bargain and keeps forever. If you’re allergic, tahini or sunflower seed butter works too.

3. Sheet-pan tofu bowls

Tofu intimidated me until I stopped overthinking it. Drain, pat dry, cube, and toss with oil, soy sauce, and cornstarch. Spread on a baking sheet with a bag of frozen mixed vegetables.

Roast at 220°C / 425°F for 25 minutes, flipping once. Serve over rice with a drizzle of anything salty-sweet (soy + a little maple or brown sugar + a squeeze of citrus).

Why it saved me: one pan, zero drama, and it turns plain rice into an actual meal. If tofu isn’t your thing yet, try canned chickpeas roasted the same way—no pressing needed.

I’ve mentioned this before but a cheap bag of cornstarch is a secret weapon. It’s what makes the tofu crisp, thickens gravy, and even rescues watery sauces.

Time swap: no oven? Pan-fry the tofu in a nonstick skillet and microwave the veg.

4. Lentil sloppy joes

A bag of dry lentils might be the best $2 you’ll ever spend.

Simmer 1 cup brown or green lentils in salted water until tender (20–25 minutes). In another pan, cook onion and bell pepper if you have them. Stir in a cup of tomato sauce or crushed tomatoes, 1 tablespoon brown sugar, 1 tablespoon vinegar, 1 teaspoon mustard, chili powder, salt, pepper.

Add the cooked lentils and splash of water until saucy.

Spoon the mixture onto toast, burger buns, or baked potatoes. It’s messy in the fun way and wildly satisfying.

Leftover lens: the filling doubles as pasta sauce, taco filling, or the base of a cottage-pie-ish bake topped with mashed potatoes. Keep cooked lentils in the fridge for four days and you’ve got options all week.

5. Chickpea salad sandwiches

I ate this between classes more times than I can count.

Drain a can of chickpeas and mash with a fork. Add a spoon of vegan mayo (or mashed avocado), a squeeze of lemon, chopped celery or pickles, a bit of mustard, salt, and pepper.

Optional: dill, paprika, or nori flakes for a “sea” vibe.

Stack it on bread with lettuce and tomato, or stuff it into a pita with shredded carrots. It’s protein-dense, no-cook, and 100% dorm-proof.

Why it saved me: chickpeas are endlessly versatile. I’d use the leftover half can to roast with spices for crunchy snacks or toss into salads. If you’re tracking nutrients, legumes pull double duty with protein and fiber, which keeps you full on a budget.

Make-ahead magic: this holds well for two to three days, so I’d make a bowl on Sunday night and coast.

6. Savory oats

Oatmeal isn’t just for sweet breakfasts. When my brain felt fried, savory oats were comfort food with better macros.

Cook rolled oats in water or vegetable broth (about 1:2 ratio). Stir in a pinch of salt and nutritional yeast for cheesy flavor.

Top with sautéed mushrooms, spinach, and a fried tofu “egg” if you’re fancy; or keep it simple with a spoonful of salsa and black beans.

What makes this cheap: oats are pennies per serving, fast to cook, and shelf-stable. One container stretches across breakfasts and these late-night bowls. If you’re skeptical, try half-and-half: a savory base with a drizzle of chili crisp. It slaps.

Travel lesson: in hostels across Southeast Asia, I noticed the smartest backpackers were wizards at turning one base starch into endless meals. Oats, rice, noodles—same playbook. Swap toppings, change the seasoning, new meal.

7. Hummus pasta

This one sounds strange until you try it—and then it’s in the weekly rotation.

Boil pasta. Reserve a cup of the starchy water. In a bowl, whisk ½ cup hummus with lemon juice, garlic powder, pepper, and enough hot pasta water to create a silky sauce.

Toss with pasta and add a handful of spinach to wilt. Finish with olives or sun-dried tomatoes if you have them.

Why it saved me: hummus was already in my fridge for snacks. Turning it into a sauce meant zero waste and maximum speed. It also taught me a broader lesson—start with what you have instead of chasing a perfect recipe.

If you’re gluten-free, chickpea or lentil pasta makes this a protein bomb at the same cost as conventional brands when you catch sales.

A few budget rules these meals taught me

Short version? Cook once, eat twice. Buy staples that moonlight across recipes. Season boldly. And give yourself permission to be scrappy.

• Staple map: rice, oats, pasta, beans, lentils, peanut butter, canned tomatoes, frozen veg, onions, garlic, soy sauce, vinegar, and a couple of spices will cover 80% of your cooking life. Build from there when you can.

• Leftovers are future you’s best friend: chili becomes burritos; lentils become pasta sauce; chickpea mash becomes a baked potato topper. Put tomorrow’s lunch into a container before you “taste-test” half the pot.

• Taste it as you go: acid brightens, salt wakes things up, and a pinch of sugar can soften acidic tomatoes. Keep lemon juice and vinegar on hand; they behave like budget magic.

• Be kind to your tools (even if there’s just one pan): a baking sheet turns tofu and frozen veg into dinner; a pot and a strainer can do everything else. I cooked on the world’s saddest electric stove and still ate well.

• Don’t chase perfect: I used store brands, dented cans, and whatever was on clearance. Most nights, it was better than takeout, faster than waiting, and cheaper than both.

Why these meals work (and keep working)

There’s a psychology layer here. Decisions get easier when you reduce friction. Each of these recipes minimizes choices: a base starch, a protein, a vegetable, a sauce.

That simple template is why I kept cooking even when exams made my brain feel like scrambled tofu.

As your confidence grows, swap freely. Black beans for chickpeas. Ramen for spaghetti. Spinach for frozen kale. The constraints are part of the creativity. And yes, your tastes will evolve. Mine did.

The point is to keep showing up in your tiny kitchen and feeding yourself a little better each week.

If you do nothing else, pick one of the seven and cook it tonight. Take notes in your phone about what you liked or didn’t. That’s how a handful of cheap meals becomes a personal playbook.

The bottom line

You don’t need a big budget or a big kitchen to eat well on plants. You need a few forgiving recipes, a sense of play, and the willingness to practice.

The rest is repetition and seasoning.

Now it’s your turn—what’s your go-to budget meal? I might just steal it for my next late-night writing session.