The Confusion and Controversy of University Meal Plans

The promises of university meal plans are plenty: they allow students to avoid the hassle of grocery shopping, the responsibility of cooking and the mental anguish of budgeting. But thanks to rising food costs and some dining plans that charge per item—forcing students to think about every bite they buy—that promise doesn’t always hold up.

Meal plans are usually mandatory for first-year students living in residence, and the costs range from roughly $5,000 to over $7,000 per year. There are two main types of plans—all-access and declining balance—and universities generally offer one or the other. Each has its own stipulations: with an all-access plan, students can enter the dining hall as many times as they want and eat as much—or as little—as they like. A declining balance plan, on the other hand, works like a prepaid debit card. Students are charged per item or by weight, or a combination of the two. Each purchase reduces their balance. Many universities offer different price tiers for declining balance plans that match appetites and other needs—customized for the grazing type who goes home most weekends or the varsity athlete who’s fuelling up like every day is game day.

There are benefits and drawbacks to both systems. All-access plans are often more expensive, and students who eat lightly or have some of their meals off-campus may feel like they’re overpaying. Declining balance plans offer flexibility and control—students only pay for what they order. The approach is also meant to cut down on food waste, since students are motivated to take only what they’ll eat. But without careful budgeting, they risk draining their funds before the semester’s up. And on pay-by-weight systems, even a humble plate of pasta can pack a punch.

For Tenzin Kunga, a first-year accounting student at the University of Guelph, the reality of a declining balance plan—which included both pay-by-weight and à la carte options—hit hard. By mid-November last year, his meal card balance had dropped to just over $5. That wasn’t even enough for one hot meal at Creelman Hall, where his favourites, like butter chicken with mashed potatoes or spiced lentils with rice, can weigh in at close to $20 a plate. Kunga’s parents topped up his card with $300, then another $250, all before Christmas. Kunga is on Guelph’s most expensive declining balance plan—the $7,360 Varsity plan—designed for students who stay on campus most weekends, and athletes with large appetites who burn through calories as quickly as meal card funds. But he still finds it hard to plan meals that he enjoys, and that fuel him, at a reasonable cost. When Kunga’s parents visited him on campus, they took him grocery shopping and stocked his dorm with staples like instant ramen, bread, peanut butter, jam and fresh fruit. Using just a microwave, a toaster and a mini fridge, he could make quick snacks and avoid expensive late-night takeout. 

Running out of funds isn’t just related to how much students eat—it’s also about the complex ways meal plans are structured. Both all-access and declining balance plans are often divided into categories, like “basic” dollars (typically restricted to on-campus dining halls) and “flex” funds (usable at premium eateries and takeout joints on and off campus). Flex funds tend to disappear faster, especially when students start relying on late-night delivery after the dining halls close, and those pizzas or chicken fingers and fries can run upwards of $30 a meal. (And that doesn’t even include a daily trip to Starbucks.) 

All-you-can-eat versus pay-as-you-go

Across the country, student campaigns, petitions and unsparing Reddit threads have pressured universities to rethink their dining models. As a result, some schools have made changes aimed at reducing stress and making meal plans more predictable. The University of British Columbia, for example, made a major shift in 2022 when the university transitioned away from its mandatory meal plan for first-years in residences without full kitchens. It reverted from a declining balance model—which it had used widely since the mid-1980s—back to an all-access system, where students have unlimited entry to three residence dining halls from early morning until late evening. W. Colin Moore, director of food services at UBC Vancouver, says the switch has cut down on takeout packaging and food waste, as students are more likely to choose smaller portions, knowing they can always return for more.

McGill University also faced criticism about its declining balance model, with some students saying the per-item costs on many food items were far higher than market prices, causing them to skip meals. In 2023, the university switched from a declining balance system to an all-you-care-to-eat system for all students on mandatory plans. The University of Toronto’s Chestnut and New College residences introduced a pay-by-weight system in September of 2020, but quickly replaced it with a pay-per-item model following student backlash. But the declining balance system still garnered significant criticism: some students say they were forced to budget every meal, and still didn’t have enough funds for three meals a day. In the fall of 2023, pay-by-weight was reintroduced, only to be swapped again in 2024 with an all-you-care-to-eat “swipe” system. Under this new model, students pay a flat fee for a set number of dining hall entries per week, ranging from 10 to unlimited visits.

Learning the system

From confusing rules to unexpected fees, resident meal plans come with a steep learning curve—and some lessons come late. Kunga discovered the hard way, for example, that a third of his meal card top-ups would be sliced off right away due to overhead fees.

Rules around carryover funds, which vary from school to school, can also be controversial. Some universities allow unused funds to roll over into the next year, while others reclaim anything left at the end of the term. Sam Zamir, a second-year management engineering student at the University of Waterloo, pleasantly discovered this firsthand. After his first-year residence meal plan ended with a $550 surplus, those funds rolled over into his second year. Now, even while living off-campus, he can grab a pizza, burger or coffee on campus until his balance runs out. But at other schools, like Queen’s University, it’s a use-it-or-lose-it policy. While flex balances may carry over, dining hall meal plan funds do not.

Tiffany Lau, a first-year life sciences student, is finding the new swipe system at Chestnut and New College residences at U of T suits her just fine. Lau opted for the cheapest declining balance plan, which includes 10 all-you-care-to-eat dining hall “swipes” per week. By supplementing with off-campus meals as needed, she says she gets more variety and saves money, paying $6,270 a year compared to $7,330 for unlimited access.

Campus tours aren’t just for checking out dorm rooms and libraries. The dining hall deserves a spot on the checklist, too. While most students don’t choose a university based on the food, it’s still worth knowing what’s on the menu. Will it be made-to-order omelettes and fresh burgers or reheated lasagna and soggy fries? Knowing this in advance helps set expectations—or figure out if it’s time to start stocking up on emergency ramen.

This story appears in the 2025 edition of the Ultimate Guide to Canadian Universities. You can buy the issue for $19.99 here or on newsstands.