I got my first box of Imperfect Produce on Tuesday. If you were going to start a company and wanted me as a customer, this is just about as good a concept as you could dream up. Ugly produce diverted from landfills? Check. Prices 30% less than grocery stores? Maybe for the “average” shopper, but OK. Paying employees a decent wage and providing benefits? Cool. A commitment to honesty and transparency? We’ll … see.
A cutesy, quirky, woke website complete with merchandise page selling Imperfect Produce hoodies? Eh. I guess nobody’s perfect (ha).
Ugly food is having a moment. At least that’s what it seems like, with my friend Rachel’s facebook pictures of her fruits and vegetable boxes from Misfits Market, another purveyor of ugly produce, stores like the not-for-profit Daily Table in Massachusetts, which stock products approaching their sell-by dates, and more people up in arms about the estimated 30-40% of food that gets grown … and thrown.
And now Imperfect Produce, ready to pack and deliver to my front porch.
I hate hate haaaate wasting food as my extensive collection of Pyrex containers and lids can attest to. In my book, tossing out food is the apex of profligacy and reveals nothing more than your raging entitlement (hey there, kids!) and pitifully poor planning. But who am I to judge 😆? So yeah, a sore spot. The idea that I could make good use of food that would otherwise rot in the field and save money (maybe) and prove how flexible and creative I am in the kitchen? I felt smug just signing up.
Once you open an account with Imperfect, you choose the size and type of box you want as well as the delivery frequency. I went with the Large box of conventionally-grown Mixed Fruit & Veggies delivered every other week. One way Imperfect differs from its competitors is that it allows you to customize what comes in each box. Imperfect Produce is also a bit of a misnomer in that they also offer non-produce items, some of which are on brand in the sense that they are less than perfect (e.g. they have more imminent sell-by dates). Conceivably, you could be selecting grocery items from a virtual “Reduced for Quick Sale” shelf. Intriguing.
For the record, I did customize my first order, picking items I knew we’d be able to use over the next two weeks. I also removed a few of the pricier items and added in a few more of the relative bargains.
Here’s the produce in my first box:
And the non-produce:
Is that … spaghetti? Yup. From Mexico. Umm, NAFTA? 🤷
All this cost $22.18 plus a $4.99 shipping charge.
First, the pluses …
— The produce didn’t seem all that imperfect. Sure, the apples were a little small, but nothing was grossly misshapen or terribly unsightly. I even put the citrus in a wooden bowl out on the counter because I AM FANCY LIKE THAT.
— The spaghetti was $0.69 for 16 oz.
Aaaand the minuses …
— I ordered two 16 oz. packages of spaghetti and received four 7 oz. packages.
— For some items, if I ordered a pound, I actually received slightly less than a pound.
— I ordered three pears and received two.
— I ordered the 11.3 oz. Pad Thai kit and received the 9 oz. kit.
Husband: Uh, oh.
One of the perks of ordering from a fast-growing, VC-backed startup is that they really need to acquire and keep customers, despite some very real growing pains. After a pleasant, if pun-heavy, live chat exchange with a customer service agent (“please just romaine calm and lettuce help you out!”), I received a $13.21 credit.
In the end, the box was a bargain, but only because they went above and beyond in crediting me for their errors. I’m happy to keep subscribing if they keep making mistakes—and making good on those mistakes—but I’m not gonna lie. I was a little deflated by how … normal everything looked.
How am I supposed to impress everyone with my open-mindedness and expansive view of vegetable acceptability if all the carrots look so carroty?
P.S. If you’d like to try ’em out while they don’t need to make (much) money, click here and save us both $10.