I signed up for about a work-week’s worth of dinner kits, which, for me, meant four meals, each with one or two servings. My hopes and dreams were as follows: Please include plenty of vegetables that don’t suck; please don’t take more than an hour to cook; and please don’t include an abundance of pre-made, sugar-filled sauces and salad dressings that Jacques Pepin would classify as dessert.
The following is a breakdown of my week eating à la Purple Carrot, from the good to the confusing to the downright surprising.
What is Purple Carrot? Isn’t it vegan or whatever?
Embarrassingly, it took me a moment to realize that Purple Carrot is a plant-based meal kit service. The main draw for me was simply that the platform’s meals, which range from ready-to-eat microwaveables to more elaborate tofu shawarma bowl meal kits, looked tasty regardless of dietary needs. (Now, post-trial-period, I’m actually convinced that even my meat-loving family members would be satisfied with this hearty, elote-style creamed corn as a main.)
Purple Carrot first popped off in 2014, which doesn’t seem that long ago, but was the same year that Lana Del Rey’s Ultraviolence came out and Solange kicked Jay-Z in that elevator (were we ever so young?). Purple Carrot was actually the first vegan meal kit subscription service in the United States, and it has been perfecting its model for over a decade and has partnered with the likes of Mark Bittman to develop many of its (now) hundreds of recipes. As Purple Carrot explains, “[we’ve] expanded from being solely a meal-kit company to offering holistic plant-based grocery needs and a constantly rotating chef-crafted menu to subscribers each week.”
Are the meals (actually) tasty?
I selected three meal kits, the kung pao cauliflower with garlicky cucumbers, jackfruit gyros with quick pickles and tzatziki, and barbecued mushrooms with crispy potatoes and spicy Brussels sprouts, and one pre-made meal for a night that I knew I would have zero time to cook, a burrito bowl with a handful of plantains.
In order to test the idiot-proof nature of these meals, I made my first dinner after coming home from spontaneous drinks with friends. I was tempted to order my dinner on Caviar, but when I glanced at the packet of DIY gyros in my fridge with its 20 minute cooking time label, I thought, I could do this. And I did, in fact, do it in under 20 minutes.
Here are the gyros I chose for my first grand Purple Carrot experiment:
:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/26017006/Screenshot_2025_06_03_at_4.55.27_PM.png)
Purple Carrot meals arrive in a cooler-packed cardboard box, with the different meals in their own individual bags (so you never get confused about what goes with what). I followed the recipe religiously, and while it was layered up with enough tomato and mint and quick pickles to feel refreshing and substantial, I started to realize the cleverness of Purple Carrot’s meals as less of a one-and-done approach to meal kits and more of an accessible blueprint to developing your own takes on its recipes. Even the recipe instructions come in individual, thick-paper folders with pictures, tips, and measurements so that you can store them for future use. Next time I make jackfruit gyros, for example, I made a note on the recipe to add in a bit of smoked paprika, avocado, and feta. As you build your meal kit plan online, keep in mind that you can accommodate different dietary needs such as high-protein, low-calorie, low sodium, gluten-free, and nut-free.
While I enjoyed the gyros and was impressed by how easy it was to make and customize them, the stars of the meal kit lineup were without a doubt the barbecue mushroom dish and kung pao cauliflower, both of which had sauces worth licking the bowl for, and surprised me by showing me that I can actually enjoy mushrooms, which I had previously semi-sworn off after eating far too many in my 15 years as a vegetarian.
:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/26017009/Screenshot_2025_06_03_at_4.56.45_PM.png)
The ready-to-eat burrito bowl was a little too quinoa-forward for my taste, and gave me a jumpscare back to the kale-and-quinoa-obsessed years of health food yore, but I zhuzhed it with some avocado, lime, and cilantro.
:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/26017015/Screenshot_2025_06_03_at_4.57.51_PM.png)
My only gripe with my meal kit plan was the portion size, which was entirely decent for me but always left my partner, a person who actually works out and needs more calories than I do, craving a little more to munch. But I guess that’s also why Purple Carrot has its grocery section, which is filled with all kinds of little snacks and drinks. Still, no one likes doing a fair amount of meal prep, easy or laborious, and being hungry after your meal.
How much does all of this cost? Is it cheaper than eating out?
At about $11 per serving, Purple Carrot is definitely cheaper than eating out, but is probably more expensive than if I were to go out and buy my own ingredients à la carte — of course, that may vary depending on grocery prices in your region. But that isn’t factoring in how much the meal kits save me time- and bandwidth-wise; the ingredients I received in my box were all fresh and unbruised, the spice mixes and oils come pre-measured, and everything can be whipped up in under an hour (and often under 30 minutes). It’s easy to get excited about eating penne pesto alla trapanese after a long work day, but less easy to hype myself up to schlep to the grocery store on the subway only to return home to stand over a stove for another hour to make it. That’s the bandwidth factor, and one that I don’t take lightly. (It’s worth noting that you can cancel your subscription at any time without penalty, as long as you do so the Tuesday before your next scheduled delivery, meaning that it’s easy to accommodate dinner plans or skip a week for whatever reason.)
:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/26017018/Screenshot_2025_06_03_at_5.00.54_PM.png)
I would also argue that Purple Carrot makes for a much more cost-effective way to dabble in different cuisines without requiring me, for example, to spend $12 on a jar of ras el hanout that I’m just not going to use very often. If anything, Purple Carrot ended up giving me several blueprints for adapting some of its signature meals in the future — but more on that in the next section.
Is Purple Carrot worth it?
With some caveats, Purple Carrot restored not only my faith in delivery meal kits, but reminded me of why I love plant-based eating so much. I’m not going to go on a crusade about the benefits of eating plant-based meals (plenty of studies and medical centers can do that for me) but I always cleaned the plates of my Purple Carrot dinners feeling satiated and refreshed — lighter than I feel after eating a big plate of meat, for sure (a common sentiment reported by vegetarians). As someone who recently started eating meat again, I have been sobrassada-ing too close to the sun and, admittedly, missing that feeling of feeling satisfied without feeling heavy after eating a large portion of meat As a busy and tired person, I have also hated watching my inventiveness in the kitchen take a backseat to other tasks in my life, a New York City cliché if ever there was one, although I don’t yet store my shoes in my oven. Purple Carrot not only kept me fed, but genuinely interested in the flavors and spices I was about to explore.
If I had the budget to spend about $100 a week on the service, I would go for it without question. As it stands, I can see myself doing the occasional splurge for a week of Purple Carrot meals during a period that I know I’ll be booked and busy. I would also suggest giving a subscription to a friend or family member who just graduated, went vegetarian or vegan, or moved into their first place, because these meal kits really do moonlight as recipe cards designed for personalization.
Sign up for Purple Carrot (or just browse its menu) here.