It's been quite a while since I've done this - made a detailed record of every single thing I ate and drank during a week that is. For one thing, I know roughly how much I spend each week anyway, because it has to come out of a fixed weekly amount and, after several years of this malarkey, it seems I can now instinctively plan to buy, cook and eat at around the £40 mark. Also it is a fucking boring thing to do. But I thought it might be useful to blog about a whole week's worth of cooking and eating the 'skint foodie way'.

I planned the week's meals in advance (as I always do) then went out and bought the food (as I always do) and, yes indeedy, it came to just a few quid over the £40 target figure. But there are weeks when I spend under that, and weeks when I push the boat out a bit more. Only a few years ago my shopping list was a lot simpler to compile. It looked something like this:

    Day 1:      4 x cans of Tennent's Extra, 1 x 1 litre bottle of Glen's Vodka,
                    1 x steak pasty, 1 x bag of Quavers.
    Days 2-7: As Day 1.

Believe me, the present regimen is a significant improvement.

Before we go any further I'd like to emphasise something that should be obvious from the figure mentioned above of £40-ish a week: that this is not a blog about how to survive on the very lowest budget possible. It's more about eating good food, simply prepared, on a budget. There's a difference.

The difference can be seen, partly, by the presence here of things like scallops, smoked salmon, pancetta, steak and blueberries. But, while the cost of the scallops and pancetta (used in two dishes) came to £4.60, the smoked salmon was from a 90p/120g pack of trimmings from Asda, the blueberries were half price at the local Tesco Express and the 250g butler's steak (from the wonderful East London Steak Co.) cost £2.50.

Plus which, these few 'luxuries' were counterbalanced elsewhere by meals using split peas, rice, eggs and cheaper cuts of meat.

And, of course, everything I ate (with the exception of a handful of almond thins) was home-made - including breakfast cereal, bread, stock, desserts and cakes.

For the cost of each individual dish I have counted every ingredient, save for seasoning, herbs and spices (and I've made an overall allowance for these at the end). Anyway, here's the menu:

Breakfast: orange juice; greek yoghurt + blueberries £1.05
Lunch: poached egg + rarebit £1.97
Dinner: scallop, pear, pancetta + little gem salad  £3.90
Sub total £6.92

The rarebit was made with a small chunk of Sparkenhoe Red Leicester which I got from Huey at Bambuni. I already had a pear, half of a little gem and a few spoonfuls of honey + mustard dressing in a jar in the fridge; I was passing Moxon's on Lordship Lane in the morning, popped in and couldn't resist buying a couple of their spankingly fresh scallops. This salad was the result.

Last thing in the evening I made a sourdough sponge, to leave overnight.

Breakfast: orange juice + granola £1.37
Lunch: tuna mayo on sourdough toast; chocolate + burnt sugar pot £1.54
Dinner: (pea + ham soup  £0.78)
Sub total £3.69

The granola and the chocolate pot had been made earlier in the week. During the day I baked a sourdough loaf, and made the soup (and terrines for use later).

The keen-eyed among you might have noticed that the line item for dinner is in brackets. That is because, in reality, I was invited to dinner by Lisa, she of the Peckham Rye Eats blog. But, even if I could have put a figure to the splendid repast she laid on, it would have skewed the figures wildly. And pea + ham soup is what I would have had, if I'd stayed in. And it was the first time I'd been invited to dine at anyone's home in over six years, so I hope you'll forgive my sleight of hand in this instance.

Breakfast: orange juice; greek yoghurt + blueberries £1.05
Lunch: scrag end of lamb, tomato + olive stew with new potatoes £3.76
Dinner: smoked salmon + pancetta sandwich £1.48
Sub total £6.29

I'd been thinking of making this lamb chops recipe, but then thought about the idea of braising scrag end as a whole piece, so came up with this delicious (if I do say so myself) stew.

The sandwich is more formally known as 'bacon du bedat'. I haven't got a scooby why. It is one of the world's great sarnies.

I also baked a simple, plain white bread.

Breakfast: orange juice + granola £1.37
Lunch: ham hock terrine + sourdough toast  £0.78
Dinner: courgette risotto; chocolate + burnt sugar pot £2.41
Sub total £4.56

With every other thing already made, today's cooking was simply the evening meal of risotto, using home-made chicken stock.

Breakfast: orange juice; greek yoghurt + blueberries £1.05
Lunch: tuna mayo on sourdough toast £0.79
Dinner: sausages + potato salad; financiers £2.83
Sub total £4.67

The (beef) sausages came from the aforementioned ELS Co. They were their monthly special and cost £6.50 for six. But they were whoppers - 18cm long and, really, two was ever so slightly too much for this po' boy.  But I struggled heroically, and successfully, to finish them.

Also, in the evening, I had a bash at making some financiers. Little baked 'fancies' aren't normally my thing and (as you can see from the photo) they were more than a tad mis-shapen. But, fuck it, they tasted lovely (and cost 12p each).

Breakfast: orange juice; scrambled egg yolks + smoked salmon £0.96
Lunch: cheese + bread; pear; financiers £2.49
Dinner: pea + ham soup  £0.78
Sub total £4.23

I had three egg yolks left over from the previous night's baking and the last remnants of the packet of smoked salmon trimmings - so breakfast was sorted. Lunch was a sampling of some of the cheeses that I'd got from my latest trip to the Cheeseboard and dinner some of the soup I'd made at the weekend.

Breakfast: orange juice + doughnuts £1.10
Lunch: fruit (satsumas, kiwi, nectarine, banana); financiers £1.44
Dinner: steak, pecorino tomato, oven chips £3.53
Sub total £6.07

If you ever happen to be going along Evalina Road at just after six in the morning, you'd be well advised to pop into the wonder that is Ayres The Bakers for a bag of their just-made doughnuts for breakfast. Which is what I did.

The steak. My God, the steak. I've had feather blade (aka Butler's) steak before, often. But, I now realise, they must have been badly butchered, because there would always be a line of gristle running through them. Not these babies. Absolutely fantastic.

Coffee and Tea £4.12
Bread £ 0.80
Apple juice £1.48
Milk £0.98
Honey and Sugar £1.25
Butter £0.60
Olive oil £1.20
10 almond thins £ 0.80
Allowance for store-cupboard items 1.00
Subtotal £5.45

The coffee was from Volcano, the tea was builder's variety, with the odd cup of either Assam or Orange Pekoe bought from Tiger Spring's stall on North Cross Road. And I made guesstimates for the honey, sugar, butter, oil and store-cupboard items used during the week.

And that was everything I both ate and drank (except for a few mugs of tea on the two days I was at the Maudsley). No soft drinks or snacks excepting what is recorded above.

...£41.88. Which is slightly below the figure of £46.31 for a single adult allowed in the Minimum Income Standard project's report which I've alluded to elsewhere on the site in more detail (see the spending page).

So, there we have it, one week of (if you'll forgive me for saying so) pretty decent nosebag, fairly typical of the kind of thing regularly to be found on the table here chez Skintster.

L: Cashel Blue (£1.70/100g); C: Kirkham's Lancashire (£1.76/100g);
R: Ardrahan (£2.20/100g)

And so time for another trip on the no. 177 to The Cheeseboard and the lactic delights contained therein. Pride of place on today's plate goes to a cheese from the fabled, mist-laden land of my ancestors - Mrs. Kirkham's Lancashire - flanked (above) by two beauties from Ireland. These three wedges cost £5.86.

I'm loving doing this little series of posts. It's not simply that I've been encouraged to try new cheeses (about a third of those presented thus far); it's more that sampling them with, and talking about them to, Robbyn has made me appreciate all the more the individual cheesemakers and their craft.

I like it that knowing about the clubbish exclusivity of the Grubb's herd of cows, or the particularities of traditional Lancashire production, or how the climate of Cork imparts its own unique quality to the taste of the Ardrahan adds immensely to our enjoyment of these cheeses.

Blessed be the cheesemakers.

Cow's milk, pasteurised.

Cashel Blue is handmade by Jane and Louis Grubb on their dairy farm at Beechmont, near Cashel in the valley of the Suir River, County Tipperary, Ireland - where the family have been farming since 1719.

In the early 1980s, Jane and Louis were looking to diversify the farm, and spent two years learning to make cheese. In 1984 they began making Cashel Blue - the first farmhouse blue cheese to be made in Ireland.

Most of their cheese is made from their ‘closed’ herd (they do not allow other cows to join the herd). It is full-flavoured, but not strong, with a touch of sweetness that balances the tangy notes and nutty blue veins.

It has much less salt than most blues, which makes it ideal for cooking.

Cow's milk, unpasteurised.

Graham Kirkham, from the third generation of the  family,  makes this cheese at Lower Beesley Farm near Goosenagh, in Lancashire. There are only a handful of cheese-makers still making traditional Lancashire.

The milk comes from their small herd of Friesian-Holstein cows that are cared for by Graham’s father John Kirkham, and until only a few years ago Graham’s mum Ruth made the cheese herself.

Each morning Graham adds raw, cooled milk from the previous evening's milking to the warm, morning milk. Starter culture and rennet are added before the curd is cut by hand and allowed to settle, thereby retaining as much fat as possible within the curd.

In keeping with traditional Lancashire production, Graham then mixes curd from the previous day's production in equal quantities with the curd from the current batch. The cheeses are matured for at least six weeks which produces a cheese that is mild, creamy and slightly crumbly. The texture is moist and rich, and the flavours are buttery, lemony and yoghurty, with a pronounced tang and a long, rounded finish.

Cow's milk, pasteurised.

Ardrahan is a type of washed-rind cheese whose name means 'height of the ferns', and is one of Ireland's best loved washed-rind cheeses. Washed rind cheeses are particularly well suited to County Cork as the climate is ideal: mild and damp, with the Atlantic spray rising off the coast, seasoning the air with a salty tang.

It is made in Kanturk, County Cork by the Burns family who have been dairy farmers for generations. Eugene Burns Senior established a herd of pedigree Friesians in 1925. The lush countryside of the Duhallow region in Co Cork, is famous for its rich, fertile grazing and clean environment - the perfect backdrop for producing this premium cheese. In 1983 Eugene Senior’s son, also Eugene, and his wife Mary turned their hands to cheese making. Their first customers were actually in France at Rungis Market as the pungent smell of Ardrahan seemed foreign to 1980s Ireland.

However, it wasn’t long before they were selling cheese in London and shops all over Ireland as well. The business is still a family affair. Sadly, Eugene died in 2000, but Mary is now supported by her children in running the farm and making the cheese.

Ardrahan cheese has a buttery textured honey-coloured centre with a complex delicate flavour. It has a washed rind which grows into a golden colour, and its size and weight tend to vary slightly due to the fact that it is a hand-made product.

Ardrahan is lovely with an earthy, salty, gritty exterior from having a washed rind. Yes, it's stinky, but not overly so. Barnyard funky, yet with notes of sea air and saltiness.

My first attempt at a ciabatta.

One of the advantages of being an embittered, reclusive sociophobe, with nought but the Radio Times for companionship, is that you do have plenty of time for cooking - especially on a Bank Holiday weekend when the new meds have just started to kick in. Kitchen-wise it was so on this weekend at Skint House.

Apart from anything else, I was into days 3-5 of nurturing two new sourdough starters - a strong wholemeal one and a strong white one (the photos are of day 5).

On Saturday I found Richard Bertinet's ciabatta recipe here on this Canadian blog. I especially loved the part of the video where he shows how to stretch the dough prior to proving and thought 'hello, I fancy a bit of that!'.  And really, for a first attempt, it didn't turn out half bad.

On Sunday I picked up this bad boy for £1.99 and got 3 litres of glorious chicken stock out of it; and there were, of course, meals aplenty - and five of the recipes are included below.

But the great discovery for me this weekend was a cake that proved something of a hit at the inaugural meeting, last Wednesday evening, of the Band of Bakers - an informal gathering which provides 'for people in South East London who love baking to get together and share their latest creations over a few drinks'  The event was held at Bambuni. If you live in the SE15/SE22 area and haven't yet been to this cracking deli/coffee shop then shame on you. You can see what you're missing from these photos of the event. I didn't go myself (there's a strict lockdown policy in force here at Skint House) but word soon got around that a chap called Charlie had brought along a stunning rhubarb and ginger cake. Then, the very next day, he shared the recipe here on their blog. A grateful nation salutes you, big man.

I realised recently that it was getting a bit clumsy to have links to different recipe categories and then have to scroll down through a dozen or more recipes each time you wanted to find one particular dish.

So, now, each one of the 200 plus recipes has its own individual page, links to which can be found in the recipe index. I reckon that makes things a bit neater.

A seasonally apt all goat's milk trio of cheeses this time around - springtime on a plate. For me, the star of the show was undoubtedly the Childwickbury - smooth, spreadable and milky, slightly lemon zesty, it's probably the cheese God uses on his bagels instead of Philadelphia.

You can't see it from the photo (I think they're on the underside) but there are a few blue veins on the chunk of Tomme Bluette - however, to taste, you'd hardly know it was a blue cheese at all (or, indeed, a chevre). I loved it as it was, but I'd be interested in trying it when more fully veined.

The Rocamadour was the only one of the three instantly identifiable as a goat's milk cheese, and had been perfectly aged. Its intensity made a nice contrast to the freshness of the Childwicksbury and the smoothness of the tomme.

This lot cost £7.55 - five pence over our imposed limit. But £3.50 of that was for the half portion of Childwickbury and it was so worth it. If the wedge of tomme had hit the scales at 100g, we'd have been fifteen pence under, so I think we can allow an overspend just this once.

The following notes are, as ever, courtesy of Robbyn Linden from The Cheeseboard, the corner (literally - see below) shop of my dreams.

I had something of a result this week. I'd budgeted a certain amount for the leccy bill and it turned out to be only half what I thought it was going to be. So I was able to push the boat out a bit foodstuff-wise.

And one of the treats I allowed myself was a kilo of glorious Gloucester Old Spot pork belly, courtesy of Marky Market, whom God preserve.

I thought that such a fine chunk of meat demanded to be cooked and served relatively unadorned, to be the star of the show. And it most certainly was. The layer of fat between the skin and the flesh was just the right thickness to flavour the meat (as opposed to some you get where the fat is the major element of the joint) and rendered off during the cooking to leave a slab of tender juicy meat. It wasn't cheap - £9 per kilo - compared to what you might find in a supermarket, but it was worth every penny.

I didn't fancy going the gravy and potatoes route particularly, so I came up with this salad as an accompaniment. It worked really well. I'll be making it again soon (minus the crackling) - it would, for example, make a superb partner for a plate of cheese.

I still fancied a small carb hit with the meal. There was some tomato sauce, heavy on the garlic, left over in the fridge, so I simply stirred in some cooked haricots and chopped parsley and drizzled over a little olive oil.

Verdict: the second result of the week.

The simplest of mid-week suppers, I had this last night with some cheese and fruit to follow.

serves one
one or two slice of serrano, roughly torn
a thick slice of pugliese or sourdough bread 
a splash of olive oil
a small garlic clove crushed
a pinch of chilli flakes
4 raw prawns, peeled (I leave the tails on, but it's up to you)
a pinch of black pepper
roughly chopped parsley

Toast your bread, ideally on a griddle. Fold on the roughly torn pieces of serrano.

Heat a small pan (I use a 20cm wok) to a fairly high heat and add a splash of olive oil. Throw in the garlic and chilli, then the prawns and add a pinch of pepper (no salt). Toss until the prawns are cooked through - a matter of moments.

Place the prawns on top of the ham, pour the pan juices over and around and scatter some parsley over.

I popped along to the Oval farmer's market yesterday, picking up, among other foodstuffs, a wood pigeon for £2.50. Wood pigeons are available all year round. Which is a result. I already had the mushrooms and spinach, and some pine nuts and raisins were in the cupboard, so this concoction came to mind. The resulting plate of food turned out to be a deep, rich and intense plate of deliciousness.

It's an easy enough job to remove the breasts from the carcass of a pigeon -all you need is a small sharp knife and a thumb.

If you can't be arsed making a stock with the carcass (and if you're only making this for one I can entirely understand), simply use all chicken stock.

serves one
1 wood pigeon, breasts removed and skinned
a dab of tomato purée or tomato ketchup
chicken stock

a splash of olive oil
½ banana shallot (or ½ small onion)
25g thickly cut pancetta, diced
1 heaped tbsp dried porcini, soaked in hot water for 15 mins, squeezed dry and chopped
a handful of button mushrooms
60ml red wine
a little squeeze of honey to taste (I had acacia)
stock to barely cover
a pinch of thyme leaves

a splash of olive oil
200g baby spinach
1 dsp raisins, soaked in hot water, squeezed dry
1 dsp toasted pine nuts
a squeeze of lemon

a knob of butter
salt + black pepper

If you're going to make a stock, break up the carcass into small pieces and smear with a dab of tomato purée. Roast at 220C/200 fan for ten minutes. Transfer to a small pan, barely cover with chicken stock, bring to a boil and simmer gently for 20 minutes. Strain into a jug.

Heat a little olive oil in a pan and sauté the shallot until slightly softened. Add the pancetta and continue cooking until it's just starting to colour. Throw in the button mushrooms with the porcini and sauté for a minute or two. Add the red wine and let it bubble away to nothing. Pour in some stock to barely cover, sprinkle over some thyme and simmer for 5 minutes. Season and take off the heat.

Heat a little olive oil in another pan and throw in the spinach. Stir until wilted. Squeeze out as much water as possible. Add the pine nuts, raisins and a squeeze of lemon, stir, season and take off the heat.

When your ready to eat, heat a small frying pan and season the pigeon breasts. When the frying pan is hot throw in a knob of butter and slide in the breasts. Sauté for 2-3 minutes a side, basting all the time, then remove from the pan and leave to rest for 5 minutes.  While the pigeon is resting, gently reheat the stew and spinach.

I came across the video above a few days ago. Now this is how I'd really like to be able to make sourdough bread at home. It features Sam Clark, in the Moro kitchen, making it look ridiculously easy - leave a 'sponge' overnight, mix in more flour in the morning, grab a handful of dough, plonk it in a proving basket (no kneading or stretching!!), leave to rise for 40 minutes (40 minutes!!) and throw it in the oven. Bish, bash and, indubitably, bosh. The video is entitled 'How To Bake Sourdough Bread'. As opposed, say, to 'How To Bake Sourdough Bread If You Have A Restaurant Kitchen, A Mahoosive Industrial Mixer And A Fuck-Off Wood-Burning Oven'.

Meanwhile, in a small flat somewhere in Peckham...

Above: the first (successful) loaf

...at the beginning of March I posted the above photo on my Facebook page, commenting "I've finally made a sourdough loaf I'm happy with. Ridiculously pleased!". I wasn't, however, intending to blog about it, not least for fear of getting a prompt response along the lines of "You're a bit farkin' previous there aren't you my son? Yours Sincerely D. Lepard, S. Clarke, D. Stevens, L. Hart, J. Gellatly, M. Monade & others."

But then, after two further attempts, I thought, well, maybe if I write about it someone else out there might find it useful, might be encouraged to have a shot. I'll wager there's quite a few people who fit the same profile as me, that is: we're half-way decent home cooks with little or no baking expertise save for the odd cake, more than content to buy our bread from the experts (in my case living within easy access to the produce of quite a few excellent bakeries -  some of my favourites being The Flour Station, Franco Manca and Blackbird). But once or twice a year, inspired by a newspaper article or, perhaps, a gift of a ladleful of starter from a friend, we'll waste almost an entire weekend in the labour intensive production of what is essentially a flour-based manhole cover.

But one of the things I've learned is that it's really is worth persevering, adapting, experimenting. Because, I now think, there are actually an almost infinite number of permutations of recipe/flour/oven/environment - and you've got to find the one that works for you in your own kitchen using your oven. It would just be nice if the cookery writers mentioned that fact when banging out a recipe for the Sunday food and drink sections.

So I'll give you the recipe that I used for these three loaves but I'm not suggesting for a moment that you follow it. By all means do if you want, but first I'd suggest getting hold of a book that explains in detail the process of bread-making. I borrowed the River Cottage Handbook No. 3: Bread by Daniel Stevens from my local library. There are 50-odd pages of explanation before the first recipe.

The recipe below is a mash-up of his 'My Sourdough' recipe (which I can't seem to find online) and this one from Laura Hart (which also gives instructions on creating a starter). Dan Stevens' recipe mentions adding oil, but it isn't mentioned in the ingredients list. I added a tablespoon of olive oil. Neither mention the temperature of the water. Mary Contini (of Valvona & Crolla fame) suggests a water temperature of 30C in the summer and 40C in the winter for her pizza dough and I thought I'd stick with that formula here.

You'll see from the photos below how the second and third attempts varied from the first one. None of them, I have to say, had the large air pockets you like to see in, or had much of the distinctive sour tang of, a sourdough. The first issue was almost certainly because I've been adding more flour during the stretching/kneading process in an attempt to get the dough to hold its shape. With the second, maybe the starter needs time to mature. I guess you'd probably more accurately describe what I've produced so far as a 'campagne' style of bread. But they all tasted lovely. And, of course, cost peanuts.

I reckon I'm at the beginning of a long and meandering journey towards a really good sourdough. But I think I might just get there. Eventually.

...heartfelt thanks (and apologies for my non-responsiveness) to all those who enquired as to my well-being. As the old joke goes: "I used to think I was French but I'm alright maintenant."

Nonetheless it'll take a while to clear a path to the cooker through a month's worth of empty takeaway cartons, cereal boxes, encrusted crockery and other detritus.

In the meantime here's a few smokin' hot platters to accompany your cooking - starting with one of my favourites, which isn't on Spotify. Lawd have mercy - better than chicken fried in bacon grease! Enjoy.