The Most Beautiful Soup

It has been a while since I've posted a recipe. That is because I have been reveling in a debauched orgy of chocolate eating since 'Rochester-gate'. Not just chocolate. A lot of toast too. What is it about buttered toast when you're heartbroken? It becomes as addictive as crack. It is possibly because it is easy, portable and requires no annoying crockery or cutlery. You can wander, forlornly around your squalid, neglected home, leaving a trail of tears and melted butter in your wake. You have to eat toast in pyjamas really, don't you? Nothing else feels right.

This is my favourite soup at the moment. It is crammed with healthy vegetables and chunks of thick (preferably home-cooked) ham. You can use any vegetables you like, but I think leeks, potatoes, parsnips and sweetcorn are pretty essential. As is the lovely, feathery, fragrant Scandinavian herb, dill.

This soup is as healthy as a recipe that includes 300ml of double cream has a right to be. It is proper, cosy, creamy, comfort food.

Creamy Ham, Vegetable and Dill Soup

1 large potato

1 carrot

2 parsnips

2 leeks

a bit of swede (chucked some in as I had some spare)

2 cups of frozen sweetcorn

4 thick slices of ham cut into chunks.

2 cloves of garlic

slice of butter

vegetable or ham stock (I used the water I cooked the ham in)

300 ml of double cream

a packet of fresh dill (tough stalk ends discarded)

the juice of half a lemon

lashings of tabasco sauce

• Chop your root vegetables and leeks and saute gently in butter with the garlic. This will take 5 minutes or so, until the vegetables are slightly softened and fragrant.

• Add just enough stock to cover the vegetables and simmer until everything is cooked. This will take about 15-20 minutes.

• Add the sweetcorn and ham and heat through for another 3-4 minutes.

• When everything is cooked, stir through the cream, lemon juice and the roughly chopped dill. Heat gently and season.

• Serve with a generous slosh of tabasco sauce on the top. (The contrast between the creamy soup and smoky fire of the Tabasco is perfect - but then, I put Tabasco on pretty much everything, so I may be biased).

The sorry truth is, this soup is likely to be the most thrilling thing that will happen to me today. I am off to TK Maxx in a minute, on the search for cheap dog beds. Seriously. Dog beds. How did it come to this? I am on holiday. Surely I should be sipping champagne cocktails in Monte Carlo with Cary Grant?

Today's irritations

1. How, when dying my hair (a lovely bitter chocolate colour) I have also managed to dye:

• The walls and floor of the bathroom (do you remember the shower scene from Psycho?)
• Several fluffy towels
• My right big toe (which, when combined with green nail varnish makes me look like I have gangrene)
• A vintage Laura Ashley duvet cover
• My i-pod earphones (I was listening to Tears for Fears whilst dying)
• My underwear

I know this is becoming a boring refrain, but the first thing I would do if I was not poor would be to go to my hairdresser ever two weeks and let him do the hard work. Sadly, I have to now dye my hair. I have a few (ahem) Betty Boothroyds. I think you know of what I speak. I am just grateful I didn't inherit my Dad's genes. He had totally white hair from the age of 28.

2. I don't want to vote for any of the Labour leadership candidates. I am torn between the two Eds, but I never respected Balls whilst he was in charge of education ( keeping up with his daft initiatives was the pedagogical equivalent of patting your head and rubbing your tummy). Ed Milliband has a slight speech impediment and looks like he spends his evenings in a tent in the back garden, reading Dr Who manuals and scoffing Wagon Wheels. I don't like David Milliband either, he's too smooooooooth. He's got that irritating veneer of metrosexual smarm (just like Blair, Clegg and Cameron). Choosing between the Milli-band of brothers is like choosing between Harry Potter and Adrian Mole. There is part of me suspects that both of them are still virgins and wear days-of-the-week underpants. I want a real man as leader of the Labour Party. Preferably a pipe smoker and a whippet owner. Someone with integrity, gravitas and a touch of eccentricity. Where are the Tony Benns of our age?

3. Speaking of politics, do you recall Cameron's pledge that there would be no cuts to frontline services in education or health? Well, that's a joke. Our school has been told that although its core funding (for staff, pencils and loo roll) remains the same we will face a 75% cut in all of the grants we once relied on for 'extras'. These were the grants Labour awarded to schools like ours, schools that serve the most deprived and challenging of communities. They funded breakfast clubs, trips, music lessons, after-school clubs etc etc. This funding announcement coincided with one about the government's new flagship 'academies'. They will be receiving extra millions, as a 'reward' for their excellent academic achievements. It is of no surprise that these new academies are based in leafy, middle-class areas. So, the new government is taking money from the poor and giving it to the rich. Astounding.

The Tories believe that we live in a meritocracy, that all children are born equal, and have equal chances and opportunities to succeed in life. It would be wonderful if that was indeed true. However, I would love these Oxford-educated Tory twats to come and spend some time in an inner-city school. They might see that for children brought up surrounded by crime, chaos, poverty and abuse, learning is not always a priority. They might see that for those children, progress will always be slower. They might see that teachers in these schools have to work twice as hard. This doesn't mean that teachers or children are failing. At least Labour appreciated this, and injected extra resources into these schools and communities to try to redress the balance, to compensate for the inequity.

OK. Party political rant over. Now back to business as usual: namely the abuse of fanny rats and BMW drivers.

4. I suddenly wondered today whether Rochester has acquired a personalised number plate for his BMW. That really would be a cuban-heeled step too far. I don't think I could ever forgive such gratuitous ostentation. Madam Noir and I, discussed the issue over tea and scones today (a cherry scone for me, slathered with inch-thick butter). I think I have come up with the perfect plate for the peg-salesman of the year.

PEG KING 69

5. I am going through a very granny-esque, 1970s food phase. I am devouring stews, dumplings, corned beef pies, scones, hot pots and the like. And, I have become reacquainted with proper, claggy onion gravy (preferably over mashed potato, or seeping into Yorkshire pudding). I plan to start an internet campaign to reintroduce thick and luscious gravy to the word and outlaw the pretentious abomination that is 'jus' (shudder). I have already thought of the perfect name for my gravy blog. . .

The Persecution of the Jus.

6. I did consider making Wayne Rooney my 'Fanny Rat of the Month'. However, to be fair, I can't help but think that would be an insult to fanny rats everywhere. A fanny rat never has to pay for sex, he relies on a his suave wit and debonair charm to woo his victims into bed. A kerb-crawling, illiterate thug with a face like a chewed toffee is not, and never will be a fanny rat.

Recipe: Courgette and Dill Pickles

I have had a lovely day pottering around in the kitchen. I've made 4 jars of Victoria plum jam and 3 jars of my favourite pickles. I've been tinkering with this recipe, I believe I have now reached pickle perfection!

A warning - these are as addictive as crack. If you love pickles then I'd urge you to give them a go, they are so simple to make. They are lovely with fish, especially smoked fish and wonderful on burgers or with cheese. I fantasise about having them with a pork pie. I think that would be heaven on earth. I have yet to indulge in that particular fantasy though. They are everything a pickle should be: sweet, sour and spicy. The dill gives a lovely fragrant Scandinavian flavour. Dill has very much been my herb of the summer, I just adore it.

Courgette and Dill Pickles

4 large courgettes finely sliced

1 large onion, finely sliced

course sea salt

450g of demerara sugar

500ml of cider vinegar

1 teaspoon of chili flakes

1 tablespoon of mustard seeds

1 packet of fresh dill (remove the thick stems but otherwise leave it in fronds)

1. Put the sliced vegetables in a colander. Sprinkle with 2 tablespoons of course sea salt, weigh down with a plate and tins. Leave for several hours. You will find loads of water comes out of them. Rinse the salt off and dry in a clean tea towel.

2. Heat the vinegar with the sugar, spices and dill until the it has completely dissolved and the liquid has reached a rolling boil.

3. Add the vegetables and simmer for just 2 minutes.

4. Put pickles in sterilized jars and cover with the pickling liquor.

5. Store in a cool, dark place. These will improve with age, but it is hard to resist the temptation of diving straight in.

(makes 3 jars)

Great supper

Frittata/ Spanish omlette/ Tortilla thingy - made with sauteed jersey royals, bacon, spring onions, asparagus and loads of cheese.

Served with spinach from the garden.

Tea Cosies, Victoria Sponge and BMWs (Miss Underscore's Sunday)

On the 18th of May I will be, ahem. . . . 40. Shopping with Madam Noir today I was quizzed about what I wanted for a birthday present. She seemed to think I needed something significant to mark the occasion. She was rather amused to discover what I really wanted was a Mad Men (Series 3) DVD and a knitted tea cosy! What can I say, I am a girl of simple tastes.

After some very restrained shopping I was craving tea, Victoria sponge and Inspector Morse. Although I am on an Aldi budget at the moment I decided to treat myself to an M&S cake. Sadly, when I got home and turned my back for a mere 30 seconds, Cyril (lurcher number 2) had ransacked my bag, snatched the Victoria sponge and had scoffed the lot from his den under the pear tree. I was devastated.

So, today I made my first ever Victoria sponge, complete with strawberry jam and buttercream thick enough to grout tiles with.

I didn't skimp on the buttercream, as you can see.
The finished article.
Gorgeous.
As is often the case though, after all that mixing and whipping, beating and slathering, when the cake was finished my craving had diminished and what I really wanted was something simple and savory: Lancashire Hotpot or Irish Stew. I shall take the cake to school tomorrow. I am sure it will be just the ballast I need to get through Pompous's tortuous, epic, after-school staff meeting.

I made a disappointing discovery about McFireman today. It is bad. Very bad. I asked him what kind of car he drives. Oh dear. A BMW. Why is it, I enquired, when BMWs are so expensive and futuristic, that they are made without indicators? They must be, cos every twat I see driving them smugly and arrogantly refuses to use to use them. I don't know why these BMW bounders look so cocky behind the wheel. After all, it does not bode well for their sexual technique does it, the fact that they are too lethargic to reach down and tweak that indicator lever? Not good. Not good at all.

Comfort Food

I was hoping for some glorious spring weather, but sadly the windows are rattling in the wind and the sky is grey and heavy with drizzle. Spring feels a very long way away. The house seems empty without Kipper. He spent the last couple of years curled up like a spotty kidney bean in his bed by the kitchen radiator. He would stagger to his feet whilst I was cooking or baking - always eager to help by hoovering up crumbs or licking out pans and bowls.

So, I am feeling rather sorrowful. Not only am I missing Kipper, but I have also sprained my ankle whilst walking Hetty and Cyril. I've been in need of comfort. I was thinking of making panackelty today, a classic North East stew. Housewives made it with left-over meat from the Sunday roast or cheap corned beef. The meat would be layered with sliced potatoes, onions and gravy and left to simmer gently at the bottom of the oven for hours.

In the end though, I opted for a Lancashire Hotpot. Tender, melting lamb topped with buttery, crunchy layered potatoes. Gorgeous. I ate it in bed, whilst watching Inspector Morse. Even better, I managed to keep the left-over hotpot out of the covetous claws of Cyril, so tomorrow's supper is sorted.

Swedes and Sexpots

A round-up of my week. The highlights.

I have nothing to report on the internet dating front. I fear my heart is just not in it. Every man who contacts me is immediately and brutally discounted. One for referring to me as 'honey', another because the picture he attached was a novelty Wild West 'Wanted' poster in which he was wearing a Stetson. I am sure he doesn't wear it whilst doing his milk-round in Grimsby, but even so. It was too much of worry. Oh, and his favourite past time was going to 'theam' parks. So, not only are we woefully incompatible in terms of hobbies, but the rascal also can't spell, which is another pet hate of mine. If a man is too apathetic to use a spell-check then what chance of foreplay?

I also received this heartfelt treatise.

my name is ahmed .i living uk last 15 years.i was busy 4 my business n previously i am cheated by my ex,i am alone in this country that is why i am looking 4 a honest ladey some time who can look after my business n my other property..i am brown skin asian man,if u like brown skin n honest person u can winks me take care loveyly ladey

Trust me. I didn't 'winks' him.

There is a fundamental problem with all of them, you know. They are just not Rochester. They are lacking in eyebrows and irony. Eyebrows and Irony. Sounds like the title of a Pulp album, don't you think?

So, let us swiftly move on to other matters.

Wallander

I love wallowing in things dark and depressing. I have been really enjoying the BBC's dramatisation of Wallander, It is utterly bleak. Kenneth Brannagh is a revelation. Take him out of his RSC leotard and add sprinkling of stubble and he really is very attractive. The program is set in Sweden and the landscape is starkly beautiful: vast, leaden, empty skies and miles and miles of bleached, windswept grassland. The whole programme has a haunting, morbid lyricism.

Brannagh plays your typical lonely, dour, cynical, anti-social detective. Is there any other kind of literary copper? Let's face it, they're never portrayed as chirpy, happily married family men, are they? Kurt Wallander makes Inspector Morse look like Ken Dodd.

This week's episode was particularly somber: murder, torture, betrayal, cancer and revenge were the very Shakespearean themes. But, in the midst of all that bleakness Wallander fell in love. He met his 'soul-mate' (or if you are a man on match.com, 'sole-mate'). How did he know she was 'the one'? Well, I shall tell you. It transpired that he and the lady in question shared the same painting. What a co-incidence. The print was a rather menacing, Munch-inspired forest scene, all twisted silvery branches and lengthening shadows.

Obviously this startling co- incidence hinted at a deeply soulful and sensual connection between the two. Although, I think the film-makers did miss a trick here. The film was so distressing in its themes that I think a welcome note of levity could have been introduced at this point. Imagine how the oppressive tension of the piece would have lifted had the painting in question been of dogs playing pool?

I was compelled to email Rochester about this though, given that on his first visit to my Art Deco midden, he was astounded to see we had a shared picture. That was not dogs playing pool (no, he had the poker version), but a lovely and rather obscure print from the Laing Gallery called The Bathing Pool.

Meatballs and Dimebars

The Swedish theme was continued later in the week with a trip to Ikea, (yes, it was a legitimate need, I had to buy things for my class, more of that another time). I have a huge affection for Ikea meatballs, and the gloopy packet sauce that accompanies them. I know they represent the antithesis of healthy, natural, organic food. They are environmentally friendly though, those meatballs. They are made with recycled Volvo tyres, pulverised Scholl sandals and Kenneth Brannagh's redundant leotards. That accounts for the rather odd, rubbery texture.

I also bought dozens of Dimebars, to be dipped in Yorkshire tea, whilst partaking in my favourite bed activity: watching Mad Men on DVD.

Mad Men

Now, I am rationing myself with Mad Men. I have only watched the first 4 episodes, but I love it so. I shall be devastated when it is over. I'll have to find something else to do in bed then. Reasons to buy Mad Men on DVD.

• it has razor sharp dialogue (written, mostly, by women, you know)
• gorgeous costumes and super stylish retro settings (I love admiring decor, I can even watch Midsumer Murders just for sheer pleasure of admiring the Agas. They are so much more interesting and expressive than John Nettles)
• it is gleefully politically incorrect - all that smoking and those old-fashioned gender roles. 'it was like watching a dog play the piano really well.' one guy says, after a woman somehow manages to write a great line of copy for a lipstick ad. You know, I wish I lived in a time where men were men and women were women. I can't help but think things would be simpler.
• the character of Joan, who is just such a gloriously arch and beautifully juicy sexpot. Here she is in action.

As you can see from the picture at the top, Cecil the Maine Coon is a big fan of our cosy Mad Men nights in. Now, excuse me while I settle down with episode 5.

Smoked haddock quiche.

I bought a succulent piece of smoked haddock today. I know food critics would sneer at me, but I always choose the dyed yellow fish. Flabby, white smoked-haddock does nothing for me. This is the one time when I do not favour the pale and wan. In my opinion smoked-haddock should be as garish and artificial as Jordan.

Whilst contemplating the fish I was thinking kedgeree. However, I've also been craving some buttery, cheesy quiche. In the end I decided to combine the two and made the most luscious smoked haddock, cheddar and leek quiche. I have to say, in the words of Michael Winner, it was HISTORIC! I served it with some baby spinach leaves dressed with my signature walnut oil dressing. It was possibly the best supper I've had in months. Very simple, very homely, very cheesy and very smokey. Heaven.

There is no recipe to follow, I winged it. I made 200g of shortcrust pastry, poached the haddock in milk and softened some leeks in butter. The cheesy custard was made with quarter of a pint of double cream, a little of the milky poaching liquor, 3 eggs and a huge handful of grated mature cheddar. I baked the quiche for 30 minutes till the top was burnished and golden.

I'm not sure if real men eat quiche, but primary school teachers certainly do. However, I must apologise for the poor quality photo. It looked so darn good I couldn't be bothered coming over all David Bailey. I just cut a healthy slice and jumped straight in!

9 of the Best

Things are bleak at Chez Underscore. The boiler is playing up, no heating or hot water. I have so much school work to do that I literally don't know where to start. So, some distracting food blogging is just the ticket, to warm the cockles whilst I watch Rebecca on ITV3 (Charles Dance is NOT Max De Winter). You know. Always thought I wouldn't get married, but if I did it would have to be to a man called De Winter. Lady Elizabeth Underscore-DeWinter. Ding-dong! How awfully classy!

Anyway, Hetty has been all of a shiver with the cold. I have wrapped her in a cashmere blanket. She truly has come a long way from her life tethered on some skanky, rubbish-strewn allotment.

I have been reading some trashy newspaper article that women only have 9 regular recipes, that they re-hash week on week. It got me thinking. What would my 9 recipes be. Here goes:

1. Poached eggs on toast or Green and White Scrambled eggs (with cream cheese, spring onions and lashings of tabasco). I like a proper breakfast. A breakfast without eggs just doesn't seem quite right to me. Granary toast, eggs, Yorkshire tea. Possibly some streaky bacon or slow-roasted tomatoes on the side. I sacrifice lunch so that I can have a proper, leisurely sit-down breakfast at the kitchen table. After this unhurried, genteel feast I have a bracing walk in the park with Hetty before heading out to the School of Hard Knocks. If I thought all I had in for breakfast was a bowl of Cocoa Corn Crispies then I'd never get out of bed.

2. Smoked Mackerel pate. Ideally on a toasted bagel. I make this every week, it is so easy and so cheap. I tell myself it is an Omega-3 laden health food. I try not to think of the copious amount of cream cheese than goes into it.

3. Pasta supper. At the moment my favourite is spaghetti with a garlicy, fresh tomato sauce. Just before serving I lightly stir in a big spoon of good quality ricotta cheese. Carbonara is another favourite. I seemed to eat nothing but pasta in the 90s. I think we all did. Now I have it just once per week.

4. Spinach salad: I have one daily, as a side dish with my supper. Ideally it would also have avocado, red onion and be served with a walnut oil dressing. I do feel I should market my salad dressing. It is very good.

5. A roast. Pork belly with apple sauce, mashed potatoes and green beans and proper gravy (i.e. not a watery 'jus') is my current cold-weather favourite. Or maybe lamb with mint sauce and pommes dauphinoise. I love the leftovers from a roast dinner, bubble and squeak, cold-cuts with creamy potato salad or meaty, gherkiny sandwiches.

6. Cauliflower cheese. What to say? The perfect comfort food. I love it with some home cooked ham.

7. Home cooked bacon or ham with either pease pudding or parsley sauce. There is something rather retro about my cooking, I think.

8. Buttermilk chicken. Chicken thighs, marinated in buttermilk, garlic, chili and maple syrup and then roasted till golden and crispy. I think this was originally a Nigella recipe. I have it weekly, with homemade apple and pecan coleslaw. This tends to be my 'date meal' - i.e. what I cook to impress a man. I don't know why.

9. Shepherd's pie. Traditional, English comfort food does seem to dominate this list. I like lots of cheese on top and plenty of butter in the mash.

There. My 9 most common recipes. You know, looking at them, considering I am someone who loves to cook, they are rather conservative. The runners up:

• creamy chicken, bacon and sweetcorn chowder
• cheese, ham and tomato scones
• cream cheese cupcakes
• corned beef pie
• chicken breasts stuffed with Boursin
• kedgeree
• Irish stew
• banana bread
• bran muffins

Thrifty Recipes 4: French Onion Soup

Supper for 25p. Not bad going!

My dad loved French Onion Soup. But, being a County Durham pitman, he was deeply suspicious of anything foreign. Especially anything from the land of the 'cheese eating surrender monkeys'. I can remember the first time I made this for him. He was outraged.

'French Onion Soup! What's wrong with English onions!'

Soup is perfect for autumnal suppers. The grilled cheese croutons make this so comforting and very substantial.

For 1 serving

2 onions (1 white, 1 red)

1 clove of garlic

Sherry

Vegetable stock

Slice of butter

Slices of French bread (English would also be fine Dad!)

Cheese (cheddar or gruyere)

Method

• Slice the onions into fine rings, cook in the melted butter over a very, very low heat with the crushed garlic. This will take about 30 minutes. The onions should be golden, melted and caramelised.

• Add a slosh of sherry, 2 cups of vegetable stock and simmer for 20 minutes. Beef stock is traditional, but this soup goes back to my vegetarian days, I've always used vegetable.

• Meanwhile, cover the bread with cheese and grill till bubbling.

• Serve with the croutons on top of the soup.

Thirfty Recipe 3: Spiced Pickled Pears

Well, these are extra thrifty for me as I have access to free fruit. My dad's pear tree was so heavily laden with luscious, grainy, golden fruit this year that the branches were weighted to the ground. I picked 25 perfect pears today and there are still plenty left on the tree.

I love all pickles. But why exactly has Barry Norman changed career from film critic to pickled onion magnate? I suppose 'and why not?' would be his answer to that!

Anyway, these pickled pears are my favourite pickles of all time. They make lovely presents and are perfect with cooked meats, pate or cheese. They're also great chopped and mixed with spinach as a gorgeous salad, wonderful with cauliflower cheese (as I discovered tonight).

I adapted this recipe from a 1950s Women's Institute cookery book. I omitted the rasping malt vinegar and added chilies.

Ingredients

2 kg of pears

1kg sugar (I used golden caster sugar)

1 litre cider vinegar

2 teaspoons of whole cloves

1 heaped teaspoon of chili flakes

1 cinnamon stick

4 fresh red chilies

Method

• Peel and quarter the pears, cut out any woody bits of core. Cover with water and bring to the boil. Simmer for 5 minutes.

• Remove the pears with a slotted spoon. Retain about half of the poaching liquid. Add sugar, spices and vinegar. Place on a low heat and stir until the sugar is dissolved.

• Add the pears and simmer gently for 15-20 minutes, until the pears are translucent and softened.

• Decant into sterilised jam jars.

I got 6 generous jars of pears from this recipe. Considering the pears were free and I was re-using jam jars these beauties cost about 30p per jar. Pretty wonderful.

Anyone with birthdays coming up (Madam Noir) is guaranteed a home-knit scarf and a jar of pickled pears this year! I am managing expectations here! Molton Brown gift sets are sadly a thing of the past!

On another note, Richie (foster-lurcher number 2) went to his new home this afternoon. I was heartbroken to see the little lad go. I can still picture his sweet little face pressed against the rear view window as his new owners drove him off. It would have brought a tear to a glass eye!

Richie (now called Fin) has an action-packed holiday weekend planned. He is going caravanning! Good luck little fella and remember, if the caravan is rocking, don't go knocking!

xxx

Thrifty Recipe number 2: Pork Belly

I am a recent convert to pork belly. In M&S the other week I saw they were selling huge slabs for about £4 To be honest, I'm not really a pork fan. However, when I saw the meat in M&S I remembered a gorgeous looking recipe for it in Nigel Slater's wonderful book, Appetite.

Before cooking the belly you need to slash the skin with a stanley knife. Please don't bother even attempting this with a regular kitchen knife. It just won't work. Working from one end of the meat you need to make cuts through the skin and fat every 2 cm. Rub course salt into the cuts.

Cook the belly for 20-30 minutes at an incredibly high temperature (240 degrees). This crisps up the crackling. Turn the temperature down to 180 degrees, and cook for a couple of hours. What you have, at the end of cooking, is crunchy, golden, salty crackling and soft, juicy, sweet and tender meat. It is heavenly, but terribly rich. You won't need much.

I served mine with potato, carrot and spring onion mash, peas and apple sauce. The apple sauce balanced the fatty richness of the meal perfectly. The leftovers make the most divine sandwiches, or alternatively, stir-fry chunks of cooked pork in a satay sauce (peanut butter, soy sauce, chillies, garlic & a little brown sugar) and enjoy with egg fried rice.

So, pork belly, for £4 you can have sumptuous roast dinners, some super tasty sandwiches and a 10 minute stir-fry supper. Bargain. And just think, if pork belly is £4 in M&S, imagine how cheap it will be in ASDA! And in Lidl, well, they'd probably pay you to take it away.

Thrifty Recipe number 1: Linguine Carbonara

Life at the bottom end of the teachers' pay scale in times of recession is terribly hard. Miss Underscore is on a budget!!! So, I shall be devoting some time to posting some thrifty but satisfying recipes.

Pasta dishes are always cheap options, but Carbonara still feels like a luxurious, decadent supper. It's the cream. Carbonara also just takes 10 minutes to make. Consequently it is my usual Monday night supper. It is just the consoling hug I need after our weekly, tortuous after-school staff meeting.

This costs about £1 to make, which is amazing when you think how much you pay for a 'decent' (i.e. M&S) ready meal. I do find pasta suppers make me terribly sleepy though. Which makes me wonder how Italian men gain their reputation in the bedroom.

You know, whilst on dates I tend to lose my appetite. Love (or lust) does that to me. I spent a whole weekend with Rochester and lived a plate of scrambled eggs and about half a dozen chips. By the time I got back to Newcastle airport I was so ravenous I gobbled 2 Greggs' jumbo sausage rolls in 3 seconds flat.

I once had an internet 1st date with a college professor. He seemed nice. After the date I gave him the nickname Rumple-le-bon, this was because when he turned up he was bedecked in 1980s clothes and also was very gnome-like in appearance, like the wicked imp Rumplestiltskin from Grimm's fairy tale. Anyway, he took me to an Italian restaurant. When I found myself devouring 3 courses (including spaghetti carbonara) it occurred to me that this was a dreadful sign. I just didn't fancy the leather clad pixie.

I also drank too much that night and found myself re-enacting a scene from Dallas (I was in my Dallas phase at the time). The scene was Jock Ewing's heart attack. I was attempting to explain how wooden the actor was, but, as I was marinated in cheap gin and my date was looking rather perplexed I decided a Crimewatch style reconstruction was required. So, in the middle of the restaurant I gasped dramatically, grabbed my chest, went as glassy eyed as a haddock and slid to the floor and under the table.

Needless to say, we never made it to date number 2.

Linguine Carbonara

• Linguine
• 2 or 3 rashers of smoked, streaky bacon chopped
• 1 egg
• 1 clove of garlic
• the juice of half a lemon (or a little white wine if you have it)
• 1 small courgette or a handful of mushrooms
• glug of double cream
• grated parmesan or pecorino cheese
• sprinkling of chili flakes and lots of black pepper

Method

Put your pasta on to cook. The sauce will be made in two shakes of a lamb's tail (or about 5 minutes, if you don't have any lamb's tails to hand).

Heat a little olive oil in a pan and saute the bacon. After a minute or two, when it is beginning to colour throw in the thinly sliced courgette (or mushrooms). Cook for another 3 minutes until the bacon is beginning to crisp and the courgettes are softened. For the last minute you can add the crushed garlic and a few chili flakes.

Whilst your bacon is cooking, beat the egg and add the lemon juice, cream and a handful of cheese. Mix together well.

When the pasta is cooked drain it and add it to the garlicy bacon. Stir to make sure the linguine is coated in the savory mixture. Then pour over the creamy egg and stir well. Do this over a very, very low heat (or you'll end up with scrambled eggs). It is ready when everything is mixed well and the sauce has thickened slightly. That will only take about 30 seconds.

Serve with extra cheese and a green salad tossed in a very sharp dressing.