One person’s trash is another’s gourmet dinner.

Theresa Kadish, a 31-year-old filmmaker and dumpster diving extraordinaire, claims she spends only $25 on groceries a week. The rest of her sustenance comes from the treasures she discovers in the garbage — including filet mignon steaks.

For over a decade, the upstate New York woman has been rifling through waste, insisting that the fresh, albeit discarded, produce is the same as store-bought.

“Seriously, there’s no difference between dumpstered and non-dumpstered food, and I don’t assign preferential ethical or cultural value to either,” she told SWNS.

She’s been “dumpstering” since she was 19 years old and first moved into a collective house, where the other residents regularly scavenge for tossed treasures.

One day, they went to an Odwalla beverage company’s distribution center, bringing home thousands of dollars worth of juice that had been discarded.

“I was astonished by the wealth that could be found in the dumpster,” Kadish, who lives on a farm in the Catskill Mountains, said. “I kept imagining all those hundreds of gallons of juice in the days after. I told all my friends about it.”

She rifled through the dumpster — which smelled of sickly rot and fermented juice that pooled at the bottom of the can — filling up her car with almost expired juice cartons, never wanting to pay for the expensive juice ever again.

Eventually, she never bought food again at all.

“I started dumpstering frequently,” she said. “Soon, I was feeding my collective house out of the dumpster and catering meals for events.”

Depending on the season and the number of mouths to feed, Kadish tries to source food from dives twice a week for her housemates.

“When I am actively feeding a large group of students, about a third of what we eat, most of our fruit and meat, comes from the dumpster,” she said. “Another third comes from our farm, all our vegetables, and a third is purchased, like gains, oils and other bulk goods.”

Dives take about three hours, which entails driving and cleaning the food after retrieving it.

“I avoid purchasing food as much as I can,” she said. “I can increase the quality of my diet with dumpstering without changing my food spending patterns.”

While Kadish saves some money, it’s “not really quantifiable” to her, explaining that most of her finds she’d never spend money on anyways.

For more than a decade, she’s sharpened her scrappy senses, learning how to choose a bountiful mountain of trash and studying how stores process their trash.

To date, her most gourmet discovery was a filet mignon dinner with potatoes and onions, saying it “tasted like steak.”

But rummaging through garbage bins comes with risk — but it’s not about the quality of food.

“Once a store manager called the cops, and when the officer came he looked at my trunk full of fresh strawberries, and then he looked at the manager, then he looked back at the strawberries,” she recalled. But when the manager said the store throws out perfectly good strawberries every day, the officer let Kadish go.

“They let me keep the strawberries!” she said.

But her defiance of the almighty supermarkets isn’t actually a political statement — she’s just hungry.

“I don’t see myself as an activist. I just like eating good food,” she said, while encouraging others to “go exploring” in their local dumpsters.

But Kadish isn’t the only avid diver around.

Earlier this year, a father of five went viral online for his dumpster discoveries, which included cookies, pancake mix, pretzels and even makeup.

Meanwhile, Megan Godinez, a stay-at-home mom, claimed she rakes in more than $13,000 when rummaging through trash in Dallas.

“It started out as a hobby at first after I watched a video of something similar on YouTube,” she said. Eventually, the side hustle turned into something more, discovering kitchen appliances, food and even treadmills.

New York City dumpster divers have also gained some traction online, like Anna Sacks, known as “thetrashwalker,” and another woman who wants to retire from banking by 30.