Self-Butchered Smothered Porkchops

Joyful frugality is as much about what you do as what you don’t do

Recently I’ve been reading a book my friend recommended called The Art of Frugal Hedonism, and it’s kind of rewiring my brain. Well I say read, but the truth is we love an audiobook in our house. In the BCE (before child era), I frequently read two or three books a week. Even when I had one little person around, I was able to sneak in some solid reading during naptime. But now? Forget about it!

But audiobooks work just as well, and, as I listened to the peppy Australian accented tones of the narrator breaking down their philosophy for finding liberation from what they call the “work-to-spend” cycle, I felt a profound sense of recognition. I think I might just be a natural born frugal hedonist—and I think you should be one, too.

There are some parts of the book that were a little cringy (sorry guys, I’m not going to be going dumpster diving anytime soon), but its overall message was something that really resonated with me. We’re in a time of serious economic precarity, and finding ways to experience joy without spending a ton of money is critical to not only surviving but thriving. So in the spirit of my new frugal gurus, here’s some of the ways our household is living well for less lately.

What frugal hedonism means to me

Though I’m not exactly excited about the idea of poking around in dumpsters, minimizing consumption is one of my favorite things. As a writer married to a teacher, I’m definitely not wealthy, but my life feels luxurious. I get to do the thing I love the most in the world: write books and stories like this for you! I get to spend a ton of time with my babies in their youngest and most impressionable years. Yes, I am sometimes stressed about making enough money, but this is America. Aren’t we all?

Joyful frugality is as much about what you do as what you don’t do. It’s all very well to tell people to make coffee at home or not get takeout, but the best mindset shifts are additive, not restrictive. So, for me, frugality means having 25 people over for New Years and eating a gigantic pot of red beans and rice. It means hosting clothing swaps or toy swaps at Christmas so we can share the things our kids no longer play with and get something new. It’s about bringing a little something whenever I go to a friend’s house to help lighten the burden of hosting—maybe a jar of homemade crackers or granola or a loaf of bread.

So maybe when I say frugality, I’m talking about community. We often talk about how the rich are also time wealthy. They have the resources that enable them to pay someone else to do life’s grunt work of shopping and cooking and cleaning and childcare. But building a strong community is an even better way to reclaim your time. Tasks are lightened when they are shared. Under the right circumstances, prosaic reality can be the most hedonistic thing of all.

The art of eating frugally (and well)

I was reflecting on all this recently while at the local Middle Eastern supermarket where my family does our shopping. It’s wildly affordable, stocks multiple tahini options, and has things like green almond fruit and sour cherries in season. Doesn’t get much better than that!

I’m there every other week or so with two little ones, and by now we’re friendly with everyone who works there. For a bonus friend experience, I recently texted a neighbor to see if she wanted to come along. She did, and there she was, pushing her cart alongside me.

We had almost finished shopping, buying dried beans, flour, the biggest glass bottle of Syrian olive oil (deliciously green and spicy, and much cheaper by the milliliter). The last stop was the butcher, where I replenished my stock of pork loin, which is about half as cheap per pound as the chops I was going to cut it into, a tip from Arman, our butcher friend.

As we rang up, I talked to Maria, a cashier we know well. She’s a single mom, raising three kids on her own. We chatted about the Los Angeles Library’s free zoo ticket program, the sweet little daycare where her five-month-old had just started. Life, she said, was overwhelming. It was a lot. But it was also wonderful. “Thank God,” she said, “for everything.” Maybe that’s what frugal hedonism is all about. Stopping for a moment to breathe in and say, yes. Thank goodness for it all.

Emily Beyda’s writing has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Built, Refinery29, Smartmouth, Fodors, the Thrillist, the Austin Chronicle, and more. Her novel, “The Body Double,” was published in 2021.

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