This afternoon, Mr. Muñoz and his mother scrutinized the week’s menus to figure out what they could scrounge from storage without upending the rest of the week’s schedule. After a quick survey of items on the porch, Mr. Muñoz decided on pasta with tuna.

Soon, pots on all four burners on the stove were bubbling with milk, pasta, and white and yellow rice. While waiting for the chicken to warm, Ms. Zapata and her children began sorting bills on a chair in a bedroom; no other space was available. Electricity runs about $120 a month, and gas $100 every two months.

According to Mr. Muñoz, the family spends about $200 a week on the meals.

“If I had a choice,” he said, “I’d do a good breakfast with a proper budget. And I’d do lunch, too.”

By 5 p.m. he was fading. He slouched against the kitchen wall and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he straightened up, poured his sixth cup of coffee of the day, and served himself a bowl of lentils over buttered rice. This was his dinner, and as the workers do, he ate standing up.

By 8:30, the truck was loaded. “Bye, Mami,” Mr. Muñoz said as he gave his mother a kiss. “I love you.”

En route, he stopped off at the International Ministerial Church of Jesus Christ in Woodside, as he does every night. When he arrived on the corner, the men lined up in single file in front of the bed of the truck, which functioned as a counter. He handed takeout containers to the men, who almost all returned for seconds. One man stuffed plastic boxes of orange juice into his pockets to tide him over until the next meal. Within 10 minutes, the truck was empty.

Mr. Muñoz tipped over the hot chocolate cooler. “I think there is a little bit left,” he announced to one of the workers. “There is a little, brother. You got the last drop.”