$40 a Day in Durham, 20 Years Later

Before Rachael Ray—the bubbly celebrity chef known for whipping crowds into a frenzy with a theatrical “Parmigiaaano Reggiannooo!”—became the queen of 30-minute meals, she was tackling a different culinary countdown. 

The premise of her short-lived $40 a Day television show was simple. Ray would travel to different cities, attempting to eat three meals, a snack, and a drink from nonchain restaurants while staying on budget. The show ran for three seasons before getting canceled—but not before Ray made it to Durham, documenting the journey in an episode that aired on August 29, 2004. 

I’ve always been drawn to Ray’s unpretentious cooking approach and enthusiastic hand-talking. So when a friend sent me a link to the local episode after it surfaced on the Bull City subreddit earlier this year, I watched it right away. “It’s wild how ‘Durham’ means the entire triangle for this show’s purposes,” one Reddit user wrote. “And also that eating for $40 a day was once possible …”

Challenge accepted. 

Several of Ray’s stops have since closed, including the Barbecue Joint, which shuttered over a decade ago, and Mama Dip’s, the beloved Chapel Hill institution that switched to catering-only earlier this year (as Reddit commenters were quick to note, the “Durham” episode hopscotches between Chapel Hill and Durham).

While spots like Elmo’s Diner, where Ray ate breakfast, remain treasured affordable options, prices have crept just beyond what would work for a modern $40 challenge. To execute this challenge, we could have adjusted for inflation—about $66 in today’s dollars—but that felt like missing the point. Instead, I set out to capture the spirit of Ray’s adventure with my own Durham-only dining tour, accompanied by INDY photographer Angelica Edwards.

I laid out some ground rules. Like Rachael Ray, my day would include three full meals, a snack paired with an activity, and a beverage stop. Everything—tax and 20 percent tips included (Ray tipped 15 percent)—had to fit within the $40 limit. I wouldn’t consume any other food or drinks throughout the day to truly test whether $40 could sustain me. And to fully commit to the bit, I donned Ray’s getup from the episode.

Cosplaying 2004 Ray was easy enough: double down on denim, side-part your hair like you mean business, and practice saying “Yum-o” without cringing. Finding meals that fit the budget would prove more challenging—though not impossible.

BREAKFAST: 11:15 a.m.

While Ray relied on local recommendations to find Elmo’s, I turned to the modern equivalent: Googling “cheap breakfast Durham NC.” This led me to Tater Bread Cafe, which operates out of a compact white brick building behind the vacant property that previously housed Los Primos Supermarket.

Below a hand-painted yellow sign, owner Walter Sneed greeted me as though he’d been expecting me all morning. In place of Ray’s sit-down breakfast at Elmo’s, where she ordered a $5.95 Southwest grits special (topped with ham, cheese, eggs, and veggies), I found myself at a walk-up window, studying Tater Bread’s straightforward menu: pick a meat and a side, get two eggs and toast.

In a nod to Ray’s breakfast choice, I ordered grits—which Sneed calls “Southern ice cream”—as my side and opted for the salmon patty, priced a dollar less than other proteins, to keep me on budget. The timing felt serendipitous; I’d just read food historian Toni Tipton-Martin’s exploration of how Black cooks transformed canned salmon into a soul food breakfast staple.

When I tried to order coffee and learned they were out, Sneed’s son, Harrison, who had jumped in to man the window, threw in an orange juice for free. Angelica and I turned the trunk of my Camry into a makeshift dining room, spreading our breakfast out on the flat surface. My salmon patty looked a bit worse for the wear but tasted divine, with a crisp crust that gave way to a tender interior speckled with herbs. I smeared strawberry jam on my toast with the back of a plastic spoon while Angelica, a vegetarian, worked through her eggs, toast, and potatoes.

With tip, my breakfast came to $8.40—already tracking better than Ray’s $9.09 tab at Elmo’s, where she’d ordered a $1.50 coffee in addition to her grits special.

SNACK: 2:20 p.m.

By two p.m., my lack of caffeine was becoming critical. In a moment of weakness at the INDY’s office, I poured myself a cup from the coffee station before our editorial meeting but managed to regain my willpower and handed it off to Ann, our graphic designer, before I could take a sip. 

Ray had paired her afternoon snack with a Durham Bulls game, munching on a $3 Cracker Jack in the stands. November means no baseball, so after our meeting, Angelica and I walked to a Thanksgiving market at Durham Central Park, where fallen leaves skittered across the pavement. After surveying the vendor stalls, I landed at Bklyn Bakery, ordering their cheapest offering: a $2.25 vegan ginger molasses cookie. A few steps away, I grabbed a $3 coffee from Red Drum Roasters, doctoring it with complimentary oat milk and simple syrup. Between my reflexive “keep the change” at Bklyn Bakery, where I paid in cash, and the muscle-memory $1 tip tap on the iPad at Red Drum Roasters, my attempt to stay within a few bucks turned into a $7 splurge.

Angelica and I settled at a picnic table to plot our next move. We knew we wanted to go to a taco truck but weren’t sure which one would be the most economical, so we hunched over our phones, navigating a maze of Yelp pages and Facebook posts from the 2010s advertising $2 tacos that surely cost more by now. In the end, we opted for proximity: a taco truck three blocks away.

LUNCH: 3:00 p.m.

Taqueria Los Canarios sits propped on concrete blocks outside Trinity Food Mart. Steam wafted from the window as we approached. The prices, hand-painted on the side of the truck, looked promising—tacos were $3.50 each.

Two shrimp tacos with crisp slaw and a side of salsa taquera plus a strawberry Jarritos came to $12.90 with tip—a jump from Ray’s $10.18 lunch at Mama Dip’s, where she’d enjoyed a bowl of gumbo ($6.25), corn bread ($0.60), and lemonade ($1.50), but still pretty affordable. I ate at a red picnic table beside the truck. Angelica skipped lunch upon learning that the vegetarian pupusas she’d hoped to order would take a long time to prepare.

DINNER: 6:30 p.m.

By dinner, I felt I needed some vegetables, mostly because I wanted to echo Ray’s line about how “beautiful and healthful” everything on her plate at the Barbecue Joint looked—and Angelica needed vegetables, mostly because she was going to pass out otherwise. 

Money was feeling tight at this point; I only had $11.70 left. Devil’s Pizzeria on Ninth Street was an easy choice. Growing up in Durham, I’d spent many an afternoon there, drawn by their willingness to top a single slice with custom toppings and by the mega bang for your buck.

I ordered a slice with broccoli and spinach and, looking at my dwindling cash, sheepishly asked the cashier for tap water. “We only have bottles,” he said. “How much do they cost?” I asked. “For you? Free,” he said, making him the second person who’d volunteered to help stretch my budget.

The slice that arrived was a garden on a metal pie pan, with broccoli florets threatening to tumble onto the counter. The standard lineup of shakers—oregano, chili flakes, Parmesan—stood at attention nearby. Not exactly the Parmigiano Reggiano that Ray would roll her R’s for, but it did the trick. Angelica, finally getting a proper vegetarian meal, dove into a veggie sub and fries.

The slice plus tip ran $7.64: considerably less than Ray’s dinner, where she’d spent $13.73 on pulled pork, Brussels sprouts, and a beer.

DRINK: 8:00 p.m.

For our final stop, I traded Ray’s post-dinner full-caf cappuccino (a somewhat psychotic choice, IMO) for a more sensible $2.50 Bud Light special at Dain’s Place, a pub down the street from Devil’s. Calling it a day, I tipped 51 percent, bringing my total dollars spent to exactly 40. I sipped my beer and channeled Ray’s tasting notes to Angelica: “It’s got a real nose to it.”

In the episode, Ray is shown reading a copy of the INDY as she waits for her cappuccino at Caffé Driade. As part of my research, I unearthed the issue in the archives at the Durham Public Library.

In its (88!) pages, I found full-page restaurant advertisements—a relic of robust predigital marketing—and a dining section that reads like a time capsule of Durham’s food scene. Some reviewed restaurants have long since closed their doors, while others—Lantern, Nana’s, Fearrington House—still dominate local food coverage today, including ours. 

The stark difference between then and now isn’t just in the prices; it’s in how we find our food. Ray’s journey, guided by local word-of-mouth and print media, feels almost quaint in our era of algorithms.

Every single thing I ate during my $40 challenge was phenomenal. Not good-for-the-price phenomenal—phenomenal, full stop. The salmon patty at Tater Bread Cafe rivaled anything you’d find at a bougie brunch spot.

The tacos at Los Canarios outshone their pricier counterparts. Even my veggie-loaded pizza slice held its own against craft pies across town.

While established restaurants with PR budgets and media connections continue to command attention, this challenge illuminated how much incredible food exists beyond our usual coverage radius. Nearly every person who took my order was also the owner of their establishment. These owner-operators aren’t just keeping prices accessible—they’re quietly maintaining Durham’s culinary excellence, whether or not they make it into restaurant reviews.

Likewise, the free drinks I received weren’t just about stretching my budget; they were reminders of the genuine hospitality that defines Durham’s food scene. 

Sure, a spontaneous day of dining might run you more than $40 in 2024, but this journey reminded me of something more valuable than nostalgia for early-aughts prices: some of Durham’s best food is being served from walkup windows and food trucks, prepared by the hands of owners who remember your face. You just have to know where to look. Sometimes, that means looking somewhere other than where food writers are telling you to go.

Follow Staff Writer Lena Geller on X or send an email to [email protected]. Comment on this story at [email protected].