Happy new year everyone! Despite the bonkers events of the first weeks of 2021, I hope everyone has entered the year in good health and spirits after a lovely break, or at least a couple of very nice long lunches and dinners (eating marathons), naps, and sunshine. I had the good fortune of having my pizza oven delivered the day before Christmas Eve, and proceeded to make anyone and everyone partake in a pizza party - I’m very thankful for my family who happily indulged me (and will be forced to eat pizza any and all of the time henceforth).
Hello and thank you to everyone who has signed up since the 2020 cookbook round up (hi! I’ve loved our chats so far), it’s really nice to know there are many a kindred spirit out there also poring over cookbooks, top lists, round-ups and posts, and eagerly awaiting publication dates. A special mention to the wonderful Sophie Hansen of Local is Lovely, and curator/writer of ‘5 things to be cheerful about’ newsletter, for mentioning Sunday Side Project in the last edition of 2020. I’ve read that newsletter since it’s inception and have walked away every week feeling very cheerful about a new discovery. Sophie has pointed me in the direction of numerous great columns, podcasts, articles, recipes and books - most notably Ella Risbridger’s Midnight Chicken, a book that came into my life at the right time. So it’s no surprise I did a triple-take, got whiplash etc. re-reading the mention. There will be an addendum in the first newsletter of the year to clarify that it is indeed Lee Tran Lam who is the force behind Diversity in Food Media Australia, and I’m a contributor to New Voices on Food (edited by Lee Tran). Thank you, Sophie.
Phew! With that, let’s get into this newsletter, shall we?
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Every summer I can rely on a number of things:
Being surprised by how dry and hot Adelaide can get - the first heatwave is always breathtaking. By the third or fourth, I’m hanging out for autumn and sweater weather, telling my bf I’m allergic to my own sweat.
Me, challenging myself to forgo air conditioning until the house has endured several days of said heatwave and I cave.
My cousins and I driving down to Goolwa, spending hours in the water catching pipis, or in my case, occasionally going in for a dip before retreating back to the shade to emake snacks and sandwiches.
Filling the 15L stock pot with olive oil, garlic, chilli, pipis, white wine, parsley and spaghetti, and sitting around the dining table together to feast.
Does anyone remember Food Safari on SBS? It was exciting - I grew up up watching Ready, Steady, Cook, and Huey’s Cooking Adventures etc. before my best friend introduced me to Food Safari, so you can probably imagine what a delight and a sensory overload it was. I loved that Maeve would visit Australian families in their homes to get their take on a dish, and to get a glimpse of the big family feast afterwards - it reminded me of my own extended family and our weekend feasts. Food Safari was where I learned about spaghetti alle vongole. It seemed simple enough (it is!) - but back then, vongole wasn’t easy to come by, so we did as the family on Food Safari did, and tracked down some pipis. Even then we had to drive to a couple of fish mongers to get enough for the recipe. Suffice to say, my family were hooked and this recipe is probably my most requested. Goolwa PipiCo have also made sourcing pipis dead easy, especially when we can’t make the drive out (or still waiting for the last bit of sunburn to heal, oops).
I did a quick Wiki and learned that pipis are unique to the south and eastern seaboard. If you’re in or visiting South Australia and want a fix, Kuti Shack (kuti in Ngarrindjeri means pipi) a pretty special project between Goolwa PipiCo and Kuti Co partners showcase produce from the Fleurieu, and have many dishes that showcase pipi (this is not #sponcon, I’m just excited I can get them at my local). Whilst some people regard pipis as bait (and or argue that vongole are superior - I don’t disagree - I just don’t want to fork out $$$ every time I want to make this dish and or think about the mileage), if you ever get to try them, they’re meaty and tasty in their own way. And nothing beats seeing my family enjoy a good hearty serving after being bashed by sea for 6 hours straight.
This recipe has gone through a number of iterations over the past decade (I know, I’ve been making this for 10 years 👀). We’ve switched from angel hair pasta to regular spaghetti - for more bite and fullness(?), I don’t measure the wine (a nice big splosh, more than the original recipe I previously referenced, much to my mum’s horror who thinks we will definitely get drunk due to no/low alcohol tolerance), bumped up the chilli (there’s always chilli flakes or chilli oil on the table), and my mum no longer asks me to cook the spaghetti for longer (welcome to ‘al dente’) or to add coriander and salad leaves for ‘health’ (nice try, mama. I never did this, but do serve with a side salad).
Note: your mise en place will make this easy recipe, even easier.
Spaghetti alle vongole
Serves 4-6 (just double or triple the batch if you have more guests/a big family/want second or third helpings)
Ingredients
2kg of Goolwa pipis, cleaned and rinsed (if you’ve caught them, make sure they’ve been desanded prior to cooking)
1/2 a head of garlic (about 8-10 cloves, or more if you’re a garlic fiend), finely chopped (or blitzed in a food processor)
1/2 tsp of dried chilli flakes or 1 fresh chilli, chopped, plus extra for serving (adjust depending on your heat tolerance)
125ml of extra virgin olive oil (enough to generously cover the bottom of your stockpot/saucepan), plus extra for finishing
230-250ml of dry white wine - I use a cheap and cheerful Pinot Grigio
500gms-750gms of dried spaghetti (also adjust quantity depending on your preference - my family love lots of noodles to soak up the leftover sauce/broths bits at the bottom of the pot)
A big bunch of parsley (stems and leaves), chopped
Flakey sea salt (like Maldon) and freshly cracked pepper, to finish
Optional: lemon (zest and juice), if you don’t have enough parsley - it can brighten an otherwise salty, savoury dish
Method
Cook spaghetti according to packet. You can have the spaghetti going while you work through the rest of this recipe. Keep in mind that we’ll need some of the salty, starchy pasta water to add to the pipis.
Heat olive oil a stock pot or large heavy based sauce pan, over medium heat. There should be enough olive oil to generously cover the base - if you see any gaps, keep going. Go on, don’t be shy.
Add chopped garlic and dried chilli flakes to one side of the pot. You’re looking to flavour the oil, vs. cooking them down.
When aromatic (this happens almost instantly but you get the gist), add the pipis. Adjust heat to medium-high. Stir occasionally and keep an eye on how many shells are opening. You can cover with a lid if you want to speed up the process, but I’m a curious critter and like to watch.
Once half of the pipis are open, add the wine. Keep stirring and keep an eye on the number and rate of shells opening - it can slow down a bit here, but you don’t want to overcook either (they’ll fall out of their shell, so you want to keep as many intact as possible). The wine should cook down by the time all the shells are open. Add lemon zest here if using.
When most/all pipis are open, add the spaghetti (if you’re adding straight from the pot, hot tongs style, don’t stress about how much water is on the noodles), and 3/4 of the parsley and give it a good toss to coat the pasta in the ‘sauce’. If you need extra liquid, add some pasta water. Season generously with pepper and taste. Add sea salt if you need (hopefully you shouldn’t - the pipis and the pasta water should help you here), and add a generous glug of olive oil.
Serve immediately - bring the whole pot to the table and serve with a sprinkle of parsley, chilli flakes, lemon wedges (optional).
Discard any unopened pipis as you go. There is nothing more joyful than the clanging of pipis shells hitting the discard bowl in the middle of the table, and the request for seconds.
Side suggestions:
A very simple cos and radicchio salad. Dress with olive oil, white balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. Depending on the season, I sometimes add cucumber, cherry tomatoes and parsley.
Fresh bread with butter, for mopping.
Dessert:
Watermelon wedges with a sprinkle of sumac and salt (DO IT). A recent rediscovery via Alison Roman’s Dining In, and also in Clem Day’s Coming Together (whose cookbook is available for preorder, again - don’t miss out).
I felt ambitious and also served Smitten Kitchen’s butterscotch and banana tarte tartin with vanilla ice cream. Even if you don’t love banana or banana desserts, the smell of heaven (aka butterscotch) is worth the (minimal) effort - and this seems like a much easier version than the more traditional apple tarte tartin. Claire Saffitz’s version does look very tasty and is on my to-cook list.
OK pals! Let me know if you try this or have your own version or recipe that you think my not-so-little clan would love to try. I’ve made XO versions before, but this recipe always wins.
Other Sunday side projects and notes:
My colleague recently (OK, so it was Friday 🥴) brought in some sourdough starter for me. I won’t document my sourdough sagas here but I’m always up for a good chat here (thank you, Lidia and Nareen for indulging me this morning).
I’ve made Basically’s Camouflage Brownies four times now (many times it’s been a double batch). It’s worth the dishes (so many dishes), and the comical looks your family give you when they find kilos of cream cheese in your fridge.
A French picnic dinner for my nana’s birthday
Yossy Arefi’s Snacking Cakes is… dangerously good. I’ve earmarked too many recipes. The berry and ricotta cake is exceptional. Surprisingly light, and very moist.
See what I mean about the FULL SUN ☀️ photos? CAN’T. STOP.
And in non-food related news… hahaha I’m kidding.
Until next time!