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AFTER MP Lee Anderson caused a stir by suggesting it was possible to eat well for 30p a day, writer Amy Nickell puts it to the test – feeding herself, partner Jonathan, 42, and son Freddy, seven, for just £6.30 a week.
I quickly realise that the only real way it is possible to live on 30p a day is by batch cooking.
If I was buying in bulk, I could ram costs way down but that would require an initial outlay that most working families don’t have — plus, a giant freezer to store it in.
It takes five minutes to fill up a basket and pay £20, but hitting £6.30 requires a calculator, time and energy to search, plus a lot of maths.
It’s demoralising how little of the supermarket is available to you when only looking at the price.
Two supermarkets later, I decide on breakfasts of porridge, with jam as the cheapest way to sweeten it.
Read more on eating cheap
For lunch we would have spaghetti hoops on toast — a tin of these are 13p, making them the cheapest option. The brown loaf is 36p, the exact cost of its white counterpart, so my attempt to make a healthy choice.
For dinners, I decide to rotate three recipes which use similar ingredients so I can buy fewer items.
I decided on mince-based meals of hot pot, cottage pie and bolognese — replacing the mince with lentils. Any meat took us well over budget.
In the end, I managed to get everything for just 15p over the £6.30 (so 31p per person a day).
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FRIDAY
THE porridge feels like a good choice, made with a splash of milk and topped up with water. We rough guess how much to scoop and go for five dessert spoonfuls each.
A quarter of a can of spaghetti hoops seemed ridiculous when we considered it, but in front of us, it almost suffices with two slices of toast, for the first day at least.
The bread is OK, but tastes strangely pumped full of bubbles, explaining the 36p price tag.
Tonight, we’re kicking off our dinners with lentil cottage pie.
I chop half an onion and half a carrot and fry these before adding them to the soaked lentils and half a tin of peas. I cheat a little by adding a spoonful of gravy granules, which you can buy at Asda for 28p.
Jonathan peels the potatoes, five each, and makes the mash with the tiniest splash of milk and a blob of buttery spread. The assembled pies go in the oven for about 20 minutes.
Somehow, it’s a crowd-pleaser, and Freddy even asks for seconds . . . but there aren’t any.
SATURDAY
DINNER tonight is an attempt at a bolognese made with lentil mince. Quorn mince is way out of our price range.
I combine the soaked lentils with a diced and fried half onion and half a jar of 39p tomato pasta sauce. Spaghetti was cheaper than pasta, so we opted for this to keep costs down.
My son has one bite and will only eat the plain pasta.
Usually, I would encourage him to try more, but after tasting the meal myself, I concur he has a point — it’s barely fit for human consumption.
Jonathan peels the potatoes, five each, and makes the mash with the tiniest splash of milk and a blob of buttery spread. The assembled pies go in the oven for about 20 minutes. Somehow, it’s a crowd-pleaser, and Freddy even asks for seconds . . . but there aren’t any.
SUNDAY
THE comments made by Lee Anderson — the MP for Ashfield — were around food banks. He said that food bank users in his constituency must sign up to budgeting and cookery courses before being handed parcels.
According to the Trussell Trust, one reason people use food banks is because they lack a social network.
Luckily, we’ve been invited to a family meal today, it’s been in the diary for a while, so we take advantage of my parents’ generosity.
Each person’s main course goes over the entire weekly allowance for the three of us combined, putting our minuscule budget into perspective.
MONDAY
WE’RE running out of porridge, but a plan like this means there is no room for error or popping out for extra items.
It also means no snacks, no coffee or tea, and nothing to drink but water. I’m quickly learning that this isn’t living — it’s surviving.
Tonight’s dinner is a step up from the bolognese incident — the lentil mince hot pot fares much better.
I make the same mince-imposter lentils mixture with peas, carrots and a spoonful of gravy granules and top with sliced potatoes baked in the oven.
I decide it’s impossible without some cooking oil and salt, so I go over budget if you account for these.
After popping the whole thing in the oven for 20 minutes, the dinner that comes out is on a par with the cottage pie, and we are surprised the portion size is OK for each of us.
It even gets Freddy’s approval — he says it’s his favourite of the week.
It also means no snacks, no coffee or tea, and nothing to drink but water. I’m quickly learning that this isn’t living — it’s surviving.
TUESDAY
I BEGIN to resent the amount of time I spend in the kitchen. This is the furthest from convenience you could get.
After all that potato peeling and chopping, it’s lentils yet again. It’s hardly a prize-worthy end to another evening spent stood by the stove.
At the end of the working day, the last thing I ever want to see again is a pile of wonky tats ready for peeling.
It’s cottage pie round two tonight — and with three days to go, our relationship with lentils is already playing havoc with our stomachs.
Variety is the spice of life, and lentils have become the bane of ours.
WEDNESDAY
I CAN’T look at tinned spaghetti hoops any more, so I make do with buttered toast until the end of the experiment.
Freddy has given up and is currently tucking into a TGI Fridays’ ice cream cake dessert that’s been lurking in the freezer.
Much to Freddy’s horror, the dodgy bolognese is back with a vengeance this evening.
Pouring in the second half of the jar from last week seems even sadder this time around — and it’s true to say the sequel is never as good as the original.
Even more so, when the original looked like the contents of someone’s stomach after a night on the beers.
THURSDAY
IT’S the last day of our porridge, spaghetti hoops and lentil bonanza, and to be honest, there is very little to feel any joy about.
After the final portion of the hot pot, I will never be able to look at a lentil again.
VERDICT
SPENDING 30p per person per day is possible, but it’s no way to live long term.
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We’re miserable, hungry and can now never look at a lentil without dashing to the loo.
However, our experiment has not been that unhealthy.
NUTRITIONAL VALUE
PAULINE COX, MSC, functional nutritionist for Wiley’s Finest, analysed the meal plan. Here are her conclusions:
PORRIDGE IS A WINNER
Porridge oats are a great choice for those on a budget. They are a good source of fibre, particularly soluble fibre, leading to increased fullness.
Oats also provide protein, which is boosted by cooking in milk.
SWAP MARGARINE FOR EGGS
Considering the tiny budget, the meals that have been created are pretty impressive! Eggs would be a beneficial addition if the budget could stretch to it.
You could enrich the potato topping with eggs, enjoy scrambled eggs on toast or even an omelette with grated carrot and fried onion. I would forgo the “buttery spread” at 85p and switch it for a pack of six eggs at 95p.
LENTILS ARE A GOOD SUB
It would be ideal to see more vegetables incorporated, however, the potatoes have gone a long way to make multiple meals and score highly on the satiety level. Lentils offer protein as well as fibre and are an inexpensive way to obtain nutrients.
All in all, the meals offer protein, fibre, carbohydrates and some vitamins and minerals, but they do lack healthy fats such as omega-3 essential fatty acids and vitamin C.
ADD A SQUEEZE OF LEMON
A fresh lemon or lime squeezed into water could increase vitamin C intake. The addition of eggs or tinned fish such as sardines, if the budget were higher, is a cost-effective source of healthy fats.
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