Sylvain Charlebois is a senior director for the Agri-Food Analytics Lab at Dalhousie University.
Since the pandemic, meal kits have carved out a spot in Canadian kitchens.
They promise convenience, variety and a touch of novelty at dinnertime. But behind the glossy boxes lies a fragile industry. Prices are high, loyalty is thin and competition is cutthroat. Growth? Yes. Stability? Not a chance.
These weekly meal kit deliveries bring pre-portioned ingredients and recipe cards to your door. Companies like HelloFresh, Goodfood, Chef's Plate and Fresh Prep vowed to banish grocery runs with neatly packed bags of ingredients and idiot-proof recipes. During lockdowns, the pitch was irresistible: no store lineups, no planning and more variety than another night of frozen lasagna.
But the glow faded fast. The broader food-delivery sector has matured and meal kits have narrowed to a few dominant players. Adoption rates, however, remain modest.
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In February 2020, just before COVID-19 upended daily life, a Dalhousie University Agri-Food Analytics Lab survey found 21 per cent of Canadians had tried a kit, but only four per cent used them regularly. Most bailed, citing cost.
By August 2025, a follow-up survey showed some growth: 8.5 per cent of Canadians were still using weekly meal kit deliveries. That's double the pre-pandemic rate, but hardly a revolution. Most Canadians remain skeptical, and with good reason.
Cost kills. Nearly 70 per cent of lapsed users quit because the kits strained their wallets, often pricier than groceries and sometimes close to eating out.
Another 28 per cent simply prefer their own cooking. Fifteen per cent were fed up with all the packaging -- think layers of plastic and cardboard for every single portion. Asked what might bring them back, Canadians didn't mince words: make it cheaper. Over half want lower prices before they'd even think of signing up again. Healthier menus, local options and faster delivery are nice, but secondary.
So what's this market really worth? Depends on who you ask -- surveys suggest up to $4 billion, but that's inflated math.
Most customers drop in and out. Factor in realistic adoption of four to six per cent of households, spending about $1,000 to $1,500 a year, and the market is closer to $1.2 billion to $1.7 billion. Not nothing, but tiny compared to Canada's $150-billion grocery sector and not the juggernaut boosters like to brag about.
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External analysts are equally cautious. Grand View Research pegged the Canadian market at $1.5 billion in 2023, with growth to $4.4 billion by 2030 if -- and it's a big if -- companies fix chronic problems: sky-high acquisition costs, expensive logistics and relentless customer turnover.
The business model itself is brutal. Three players -- HelloFresh, Goodfood and Chef's Plate -- dominate. Everyone else has been bought out or bowed out. Margins are thin, logistics are punishing and even the big names constantly scramble to hold on to restless customers.
And yet, the model hangs on because it scratches real itches. Weekly meal kit deliveries spark creativity, take the "what's for dinner?" headache off the table and even double as cooking lessons for young adults. Restaurants flirted with the concept, hoping to bring dining out home without the tip. The results? Let's just say uneven.
The reality is that meal kits fill a middle lane. They're not a mainstream fix for supper, but a niche indulgence for households with disposable income and a taste for convenience.
Unless the cost equation changes, meal kits will never be more than a niche: proof that convenience alone can't feed a revolution.