One plan. Up to six people.

Family plans in software are usually a pricing tactic. Here it is closer to a design consequence, because most of what Loopa Premium does only makes sense at the scale of a kitchen rather than a person.

A meal plan ends in one shopping list. One list, one trolley, one household. Generating four separate plans that each produce a separate list, for four people who eat at the same table, is not four times more useful, it is four times more work and four sets of leftovers.

The allergen guard only works if it knows about the person with the allergy. If your teenager cannot eat shellfish, the guard needs to be on the account planning dinner, which may not be the teenager's account.

Eating Out ranks a menu against the day you have had: and you are usually at that table with the people you live with, each of you having had a different day. That works when everyone at the table has it.

Charging each person separately to share one kitchen never made much sense. So the family plan is one bill for the whole kitchen, $119.99 a year, up to six people, about $20.00 each. Everyone gets the whole app, not a guest version of it.

The single-person plan is $12.99 a month or $69.99 a year and covers one person. If you live alone that is the one to buy, and it is $10 a year less than MyFitnessPal Premium. If you do not, the family plan costs less than two individual subscriptions and covers six.

One person cooks, everybody logs it

A meal you have logged goes to the rest of the group, and lands on their day in a tap. Whoever cooked builds it once (from the food log, the barcode scanner, a photograph of the plate, or a saved meal) and sends it. Everyone else gets the whole plate, every food and every portion with its own calories and macros, ready to log without typing any of it again.

Each person still decides for themselves. Log it as it came, or set the portion first (a half, one and a half, whatever you actually ate) and choose the day and the meal it lands in. What you log is your own entry from that moment on: yours to edit, yours to delete, counted in your own totals. Or open it in the editor, add the side you had, drop what you skipped, and send your version back to the group.

What travels is a copy of that one meal. Not the rest of your diary, not the day around it, not your weight or your targets, and not the photograph. Change or delete the meal in your own log afterwards and what your family already holds does not move. A meal nobody picks up stops being offered after a week, and you can see how many of them logged it.

And it is one switch, in Preferences, that you control. It governs both directions: turn it off and meals stop reaching you and you stop being able to send them. Nobody is told, and anything already waiting is held rather than dropped, so turning it back on brings it all with it.

Whoever you say they are

Loopa never asks how you are related. A family group is six people you choose, and it exists only inside Loopa: there is no household to prove, no address anyone has to match, and no organizer who ends up administering everybody else’s phone. Buy the family plan and you can hand the whole of Premium to five other people, whoever they are: a partner, a parent two towns over, three housemates, four friends who train together.

And the shared pantry is each person’s own switch. Sharing a pantry is off until you turn it on, one member at a time, so the people who actually cook together can plan against one cupboard while everyone else keeps their own. That is the ordinary case rather than the awkward one: most groups of six do not all live at the same address. The three of you in this house share the shelf you genuinely share; your sister two hours away gets the same Premium and her own pantry, and nothing of hers turns up on your shopping list.

One switch, on the food you are already logging

Sharing a meal takes one tap and no detour. The screen where you set the portion carries a Share with family? switch (searching a food, scanning a barcode, logging a saved meal or photographing a plate). Turn it on, add the food, and it lands on your day and in their hands at the same moment. It starts off every time, so nothing leaves unless you say so for that food.

And it is as small as you want it to be. Every food in your day has its own share, so you can send the chilli and not the drink beside it. A saved meal goes straight from My Meals without being logged at all. Hand round Sunday’s roast on a Thursday and your own day is untouched. A recipe that makes four is offered as one serving, not the pan.

Your log stays yours

This is the part people check first, and rightly. A family plan shares the subscription. Beyond that, nothing crosses unless you send it: a pantry item, or a meal. Both are switches you hold yourself, and both are one thing at a time rather than a view into your account.

Everyone signs in to their own Loopa account. Your food diary, your weight, your vitals and your progress photos stay encrypted against your own account, and there is no screen anywhere in Loopa that lets another member open them. A partner and a teenager can track alongside each other in the same house without either one seeing the other’s numbers. Sharing a meal shares that meal (the foods and their portions) and takes nothing else with it.