The real food stamp challenge

Few political stunts last longer than an hour or two. Elected officials slip on a flak jacket in a Baghdad secure zone, pound a few nails at a Habitat for Humanity work site, maybe scoop some stew at the local shelter — that's populist bread and butter, quick and easy bites for the evening news.

Lately though, Americans have seen a few public figures actually stick to something, at least for a week. A flurry of politicians across the country have taken the "Food Stamp Challenge," a term coined by the media and co-opted by hunger groups. The goal? Spend just $21 on food for a week -- the average amount received by the 26 million Americans on food stamps.

Brian Ries SCRAPING BY, EATING WELL: Jamie Levesque and her son Banyan manage to keep an organic, vegetarian diet on food stamps though money is always tight.

More a political statement than a diet, enduring a week of deprivation and hardship has been a way to attract attention to hunger issues, as well as to the 2007 Farm Bill, which re-authorizes the USDA's Food Stamp Program. Solidarity through culinary minimalism, with obvious political spin.

Governor Theodore Kulongoski of Oregon was the first high-profile figure to give it a go -- he blew a day and a half's worth of his allotted cash just on coffee. New York City councilman Eric Gioia was next; by the end of the week he had to take advantage of a granola bar handout from the local food bank. U.S. Congressmen from both sides of the aisle tried it and lamented the lack of organic veggies and lean meats -- too expensive.

But really, how hard could it be? If those fat cats can get through a political stunt, I figured, so can I.

Turns out, the Food Stamp Challenge is tougher than it looks. A week of limited rations, peanut butter sandwiches and Ramen noodles leaves you hungry and bored. But it's only a week -- a poverty vacation you know will end. For two Gulf Coast women -- and millions of others -- the Food Stamp Challenge is a year-round struggle.

The Challenge is a bit disingenuous. Twenty-one bucks is merely the average amount that people receive in food stamps -- for the truly destitute, with no income available to supplement the federal assistance, the maximum available is over $35. Not even the government expects Americans to live on $3 a day.

Of course, if you qualify for food stamps, you won't have much disposable income left for that extra jar of peanut butter. The maximum amount of money you can earn and still receive food stamps is set right around the federal poverty line, at just over $1,000 gross per month. Food stamps plus personal contributions should equal around $150, the amount needed for what the USDA calls a "thrifty" monthly food budget.

For some people, $21 a week would barely cover their daily latte habit. The average American spends more than twice that each week on groceries -- and that doesn't include eating out. At my house, we shell out over $150 at Publix a week (there are three of us), and I often spend more than that at restaurants. Twenty-one bucks seems like a drop in my very large feed bucket.

A 200-pound man requires over 2,000 calories each day to maintain his weight. I weigh more, so I need more; it takes a whole lot of energy to keep this machine running. With this limited budget, I'll need close to 1,000 calories of chow for every dollar I spend. I guess I could stand to lose some weight.

I haven't even started yet, and I'm already worrying about my next meal.

According to Susan, a 26-year-old Tampa native who has received food stamps on and off for the last five years, the amount available from the FSP is just about right. Until last month, she received close to $300 a month to cover herself and her 5-year-old daughter. "It's enough," says Susan, who is currently looking for a job and asked that her real name not be printed. "Sometimes I have to spend a little money near the end of the month, but I always have enough food to feed us."

Then why am I having trouble imagining a $3 day filled with anything but generic white bread? Neither the Challenge nor food stamps are ideal for people on the go. Susan sympathizes. "I'm always cooking dinner," she says. "I don't want to give my daughter something from a box."

Jamie Levesque, a single mom in Sarasota who chooses not to work full-time in order to stay home with her 19-month-old son Banyan, even manages to stick to an all-organic and vegetarian diet. That might explain why she always has to struggle to make the money last. "It's never enough," she explains, "but, admittedly, we eat well and healthy and don't sacrifice the quality of our food."

Levesque is one of the few who pull it off. A common complaint of people on the FSC is how difficult it is to eat healthy. Fresh veggies and fruits are expensive -- with organic designation adding about 60 percent to the price -- and lean meats are at a premium. But eating unhealthy meals out of bags and boxes can bust this meager budget as well.

Before I actually dip into my precious $21, I decide to cruise the aisles of my local Sweetbay and figure out the best bang for my meager buck.

Carbs are very economical, with pasta and rice the big winners, along with that old college staple, the Ramen six-pack. The biggest problem is protein. The cheapest blend of hamburger -- 80 percent lean, great for burgers -- is still too expensive (on my $3-a-day budget) at $2.99 a pound. And even with the extra fat, that's a measly amount of calories per patty. Fish? I've got to ignore an amazing deal on $2.99-per-pound tilapia. Looks like a bag of beans and a jar of generic peanut butter will have to do.

I leave Sweetbay with five bags and few meal options. Beans and rice. Pasta and peanut butter. Eggs and toast every morning. Bananas are my only fruit, and veggies are relegated to frozen bags of peas and broccoli and a single fresh onion. I'm going to have to be creative.

Thankfully, the USDA provides a database with nutritionally balanced, low-cost recipes. They are largely standard home cooking -- "Baked Chicken Nuggets" and something called a "Full of Beans Hot Plate" -- complete with a full accounting of the calories and nutrients. Most of the meat dishes average 250 calories per serving, while price per serving hovers around $1. By my calculations, that's not nearly frugal enough for this Challenge.

PHILATELIC CONVENTION: Food stamps from various years, before the EBT card became ubiquitous.

The term "food stamps" is actually a bit dated. Coupons have given way to debit cards, with the allotment automatically and electronically added to the balance every month. It's easier and, according to the USDA, more secure. Food stamp fraud has decreased by 60 percent in the five years since the EBT card program was established.

Any given day at Publix or Sweetbay you'll likely see people using the distinctive American flag-emblazoned EBT cards, if you pay attention. Nationally, 26 million people are part of the FSP. Over 200,000, or 100,000 families, in Hillsborough, Pinellas, Manatee and Sarasota Counties receive food stamps.

Neither Jamie nor Susan feels stigmatized buying groceries on the government's dime. Although Susan often thinks that cashiers might prematurely judge her, only rarely has she actually felt embarrassed. In the front of her mind is the knowledge that someday that cashier might need the help as well.

Of course, some supermarket employees don't see it that way. "I had a cashier lecture me on how she was opposed to food stamps," Jamie recalls, "even as she's ringing up my groceries." For both Jamie and Susan, though, need quickly overcomes any discomfort.

"You have a responsibility to your kid," says Susan.

The USDA no longer uses the word "hunger," preferring the subtle gradations available in the term "food insecurity." At the end of the first day of my Challenge, I begin to understand why.

As with any diet, when you're on the Challenge, all you can think about is food. I spend the second day planning and mentally portioning, scheming how to stretch and rationalizing when I decide to slice a little extra banana onto my sandwich. I think I'm obsessed. I'm definitely insecure.

At times, the silly, short-lived deprivation also allows for some self-righteousness. The third morning, on a trip to the coffee shop, I feel a little smirk creep up as a co-worker shells out for a $4 coffee and a bad croissant. That lasts about five seconds, until my nose picks up the scent of nutty caffeine and buttery pastry. Then I'm just hungry. And angry. My supplies are running low.

Frustration is common for both Jamie and Susan, at least when it comes to dealing with the Suncoast regional office of Access Florida, a division of Florida's Department of Children and Families that administers the food stamp program for the USDA in DeSoto, Hillsborough, Manatee, Pasco, Pinellas and Sarasota counties.

According to Dianna Laffey, a Suncoast Access operations manager, things are better now than they used to be. In 2003, the state was looking for a way to streamline the process. The Suncoast Region was the state's test case. According to Laffey, the test worked, and in 2005 the entire state adopted the Suncoast's model.

"Used to be a client would come in to drop off an application and see a screener," explains Laffey. "Then they would have to come back in two weeks and probably come in again." Today, almost all applications for food stamps are done online, with over 500 local community partners -- from shelters to churches -- providing computer use for the Web-less. Interviews, which used to be face to face, are now typically done on the phone.

If the case is truly dire, the state can even expedite the process to get food stamps into an applicant's hands within seven days. For less-urgent cases, the state is allowed 30 days by the USDA. "Right now, in the Suncoast office, it averages 16 days for approval," says Laffey. "Our self-imposed target is 13. The state average is 18." She sounds justifiably proud.

Still, Susan isn't impressed. Recently, she and her daughter were dropped from the program by the state through no fault of her own, she claims. "They request information and you have to fax or mail it in," she says. Many times, they told her they hadn't received the paperwork. She had to do it again. And then again.

TAKE A SWIPE: "Food stamps" is actually a dated term; today, recipients use EBT cards that are automatically refilled each month.

"When they dropped me, they said I had to fill out two papers," Susan recounts. "I faxed them, and they said they didn't get them, so I went to the office and dropped them off. I followed up with calls every morning for two weeks." For the first few days, no one returned her calls. Then the voicemail claimed that the mailbox was full. Then the message directed her to another number.

"I called that number, and that mailbox was full, too!" she says. "Getting a hold of somebody is almost impossible."

After losing her benefits on two separate occasions, Jamie has learned to adapt to the bureaucratic intricacies of Access. In both instances, she and her child were denied food stamps because she hadn't provided information that Access needed. Once she was told what to include, the problems were fixed quickly.

"It seems their guidelines keep changing," she says. "Once you've been on food stamps, you learn to call constantly and ask what they need instead of waiting around for them."

It's hard enough to be on the "thrifty" budget, especially when you have to provide for a young child. Lose that assistance and the situation gets dire. "Going without money for food for a month is not an easy thing," says Jamie.

At Tampa's Metropolitan Ministries, outreach coordinator Carl Celestine provides meals for 60 to 80 people a day, most of them families, most of them on food stamps. "[Food stamps are] never enough to carry them from month to month," he says. "We have to act as a supplement."

The beginning of the month is fairly slow, as government benefits roll in. By the 15th, traffic starts to increase, with a big push as the money runs out toward the end of the month.

Celestine has also seen how difficult it is for people to navigate the Access food stamp bureaucracy. That's why he's successfully pushed to make Metropolitan an Access partner, with a dedicated staff member to guide people through the application.

"Most don't feel that it's an easy process," says Celestine. In his experience, many don't even know that there's a problem until their benefits don't come through, and the toughest cases don't have access to a consistent mailing address or telephone. "They aren't in a position to be pro-active."

By the end of the week, I'm sick of the lack of variety in my diet, sick with guilt from my few cheating moments and, well, just plain sick. The monotonous food and change in my nutrition has lowered my immune system and rendered me ill. I crave rare beef, am desperate for cheese and cereal, and grateful, hourly, that I don't have to keep this up for another week or month or year.

No matter how bad it got, I was always aware that the end was coming. I counted on it. I was never in danger. I could cheat, could draw out a credit card and eat whatever I wanted at any time.

It may be tough, but The Food Stamp Challenge is merely a stunt, a brief flirtation with the lives of 26 million people like Jamie and Susan who struggle to put dinner on the table every week.