Plan the week, bank the calories, shop once.
A meal-prep planner and food diary built around a weekly calorie bank. It’s easy to overeat a day. It’s hard to overeat a week you planned, bought, and are watching.
A new account starts empty — no staples, no pantry guesses, no targets you didn’t set.
How a week actually goes.
- 1
Read a recipe in.
Paste the text — a recipe site, a video description, your own notes — and the parser pulls out servings, macros and an ingredient list. It lands in a form. You fix what it got wrong and save it yourself; nothing is stored until you do.
- 2
Plan the week against the bank.
Pick the meals you’ll cook and the staples you’ll buy. The ring shows what you’ve planned against that week’s calorie bank, so you find out you’re over on Sunday instead of on Thursday.
- 3
Review the list, then walk the store.
Every line waits for a Need or a Have. Things you probably keep around sort to the bottom — but nothing is removed for you. Then copy the list out grouped in the order you actually walk the store: produce first, frozen near the end.
2 lb chicken thighsMeat & Seafood · Sheet-pan chickenHaveNeed1 bunch scallionsProduce · Chili crisp noodlesHaveNeedolive oilPantry & Dry Goods · Sheet-pan chickenHaveNeedNothing is removed for you — you make every call.
- 4
Track what you actually ate.
Log it as you go — type it and let the advisor estimate, or tap a food you’ve saved before. The diary belongs to you and a date, not to a plan, so it works on weeks you never planned at all.
Where it disagrees with other trackers.
You own every number.
The app suggests: a weekly bank from your own vitals, a protein range, a maintenance figure — and it shows the arithmetic behind each one. You confirm it, drag it, or type your own instead. Nothing auto-saves a judgment call, and the bank never moves on its own.
Unknown is never zero.
A day you didn’t log is not a zero-calorie day, so it’s never counted as one. A week with days missing isn’t scored at all — no win, no loss. Days you deliberately mark as not tracked don’t count against you. The app would rather tell you what it can’t see than guess at it.
Dashed outlines are unlogged days: unknown, not zero.
Two ledgers, kept honest.
What you ate and what you weigh are two independent estimates of the same journey. Progress shows both — what the calories say, what the scale says — on the same scale. When they disagree by enough to matter, it names the input that’s most likely off instead of averaging them into one comfortable number.
Same goal, two sources, one visible gap.
A plan is just a plan.
Weeks are for planning; they don’t own your history. Your diary and your weigh-ins are filed by date and outlive any plan. A week keeps the targets it was created with, and closing it freezes its numbers — editing a recipe next month never rewrites a week you already cooked.
Three places, and what each is allowed to do.
There’s a model behind three features. None of them write to your data.
- Reading a recipe.
- Turns pasted text into servings, ingredients and macros — into a review form. If the parse comes back wrong, your paste is still sitting there to try again.
- Estimating a food.
- Describe what you ate and it fills in a calorie and protein guess. It fills the fields; you’re the one who presses Add.
- The coach.
- A chat that knows your profile, this week’s plan and list, and your diary — because you’re the one who put them there. It’s read-only by design: it can tell you what to change and which page to change it on, and that’s all it can do.