Seven Kitchens, One Planner: How People Actually Use Mazir

"Meal planning app" describes a category, not a job. The actual jobs are far more specific: stop the 6pm argument, keep a coeliac teenager safe, feed thirty people at a birthday without a spreadsheet, cook for one without eating the same thing four nights running. Below are seven households and the setup each one uses — pick the one that looks like your kitchen.

1. The weeknight family: five people, four schedules

The problem. Two working parents, three children, football on Tuesday, and one person carrying the entire mental load of what everyone eats. The plan lives in one adult's head, so that adult is also the one who gets asked at 6pm.

The setup. A group with both parents as admins and the older children as participants. Sunday's ten-minute ritual: scan the week for late nights, fill those slots with the 15-minute dishes, let Generate propose the rest, then cooking assignments for who cooks which night. The shopping list goes to whoever passes a supermarket.

What changes. The plan stops being one person's memory and becomes a thing on a screen everyone can read. Children with an opinion get to vote on the draft, which turns out to be a cheaper way to end dinner arguments than negotiating each night.

2. The shared flat: separate wallets, shared shelves

The problem. Three flatmates, three shopping habits, one fridge, and a low-grade cold war about whose yoghurt that is. Cooking together would be cheaper and nicer, but coordinating it costs more energy than it saves.

The setup. A group with a shared plan covering only the nights people actually eat together — often three of seven. Each shared night has an owner in the cooking assignments; the plan generates one shopping list for those nights, which is the only thing anybody has to split. The pantry list covers the shared staples so nobody buys the fourth bag of rice.

What changes. Shared cooking becomes opt-in per night instead of an all-or-nothing commune. The three nights that are planned actually happen, and the other four stay nobody's business.

3. The allergy household: where a mistake is not a nuisance

The problem. One child with a peanut allergy, one adult who is lactose intolerant, and a grandparent who visits on weekends and dislikes fish. Cross-checking a week of meals against all of that by memory works right up until the one evening it doesn't.

The setup. An allergen profile per person, with severities set honestly: peanuts are Fatal, lactose is an Intolerance, fish is a Preference. Every dish that enters the plan is checked against all profiles and flagged with the ingredient responsible; a fatal conflict has to be confirmed deliberately before it goes in.

What changes. The check moves from the moment of cooking, where swapping the meal is expensive, to the moment of planning, where it costs one tap.

4. The batch cooker: Sunday afternoon, twelve portions

The problem. Cooking in bulk works, but it needs bookkeeping. Which portions exist, which nights they cover, and what still needs shopping for.

The setup. Plan the batch dish once at the servings you are actually cooking — twelve, not four — and place the same dish into the future slots it will cover. The shopping list scales to what you are really making rather than the recipe's default, and the week's grid shows plainly which nights are already handled.

What changes. "There's something in the freezer, I think" becomes a slot in the plan with a name on it. And because the nutrition totals scale by slot servings, a batch week's numbers stay honest.

5. The party host: thirty people, six dietary requirements

The problem. A birthday for thirty. You need headcount, you need to know who can't eat what, and you need a shopping list for quantities you have never bought before.

The setup. An event with an RSVP link sent by message. Guests reply, including guests with no interest in installing anything, and their dietary needs arrive with the replies. Build the menu as a plan, scale each dish to the confirmed headcount, and let the shopping list do the arithmetic that goes wrong at 1am.

What changes. The two things that actually sink a party menu — a wrong headcount and a requirement you heard about in the doorway — both get collected before you shop.

6. The long-distance family: one kitchen, several planners

The problem. An elderly parent cooks for themselves, and two adult children want to help without taking over. Or: partners in different cities who eat together at weekends.

The setup. A shared group where more than one person can fill the plan. Someone proposes the week; the others approve, reject, or swap dishes; whoever is physically there takes the shopping list. Comments keep the discussion attached to the plan rather than scattered across three chat apps.

What changes. Helping stops requiring a phone call, and the person being helped keeps the veto.

7. Cooking for one: variety without waste

The problem. Recipes come in fours. Cooking for one means either eating the same dish until you resent it, or throwing out half a bunch of coriander every week.

The setup. Plan at one or two servings so the shopping list is sized for one person. Rate dishes as you cook them, then filter the recipe list by rating to rebuild next week from things you know you liked; the "in a meal plan" filter shows what you have actually cooked before, which is a better shortlist than scrolling the whole library.

What changes. The waste comes down because the list is sized correctly, and the boredom comes down because a rotation you have rated is easier to vary than an infinite recipe feed.

Which setup is yours?

Frequently asked questions

Can I use several of these at once?

Yes — they are the same features arranged differently. A household typically runs a weekly family plan, an allergen profile or two, and an occasional event, all in one account.

What if half my household won't install anything?

They don't have to. One person can hold the plan, and the parts other people need — the shopping list, an event RSVP — travel as links and lists. Voting and comments are the only pieces that need everyone in.

Does planning survive an irregular week?

Plan fewer slots rather than none. An empty Thursday in the grid is information too: it says "this night is takeaway or leftovers", which is a decision rather than a scramble.