Pasta Cures Self-Iso Sadness 🍝
since no one asked –
It's week three of lockdown and I find myself three glasses of white wine deep on a Saturday afternoon as the sun streams into my living room, hoping that none of my neighbours will see me partially clothed and somewhat inebriated at 2.15pm. Such is the ‘new normal’ (sorry I can’t stop saying this phrase; nor can I stop saying ‘pivot’, but I do work in #marcom).
As someone who is well-versed in slow living, I figured a few months on lockdown wouldn't be so bad. A lifetime of being single and living alone was the ultimate preparation. But what I forgot was that food is my love language. It's how I connect to the people around me – from hosting countless dinners to going out for meals (most likely at Jolene). So this newsletter was born out of a desperate need to connect with people because I literally have not had a real life human conversation with someone other than my butcher/grocer/off license shopkeeper for three weeks.
This is an email about eating things that make you feel good. No fancy table settings (I eat almost all my meals either standing up at the kitchen counter or sitting on the floor of my living room), no dining room aesthetic and no expectation of what it 'should' look or taste like. My style is haphazard, unmeasured and definitely doesn't adhere to the linear 'rules' of cooking. But I know what I like (lemon zest, salt, oil, carbs) and I cook in line with that. I hope this weekly share will inspire you to do the same. It's all about adjusting the levels to find what works for you. Kind of like dating – one person's Adam Driver is another's Timothée Chalamet (I'm partial to both).
This is as much for me as it is for you. It's a way to account for my time spent cooking, and to log as many food stories as I can. Each week I’ll be regaling anecdotes from meals past – some dreamy and happy, some soul-searingly sad – because food is about catering to both.
Thanks for joining (quite relieved it's not just my mum – who I had to sign up myself),
Cat.
sad pasta.
Sad pasta is pasta you make when you've had a little crying session; when you're feeling tender and in need of some self-indulgence. Because eating sad pasta will make you endlessly happy. It's got a 100% conversion rate, trust me. The heady aromas of spice, salt and vines recall sun-soaked Sicilian summers in late September with my family, and lazy days spent in my shed cooking with the stable door wide open and picking tomatoes from the greenhouse.
The key ingredient is simplicity: cherry tomatoes (about 12 on the vine), thinly sliced shallot (just a little one), chopped garlic (two-three cloves depending on who you're kissing), a generous pinch of chilli flakes and six anchovy fillets cooked in its oil. Veggies + vegans, I see you – just hold back on the anchovies.
(1) You want to get the pan on a medium heat and add about two-three tablespoons of oil (I like to use the anchovy oil for an extra salty kick but normal extra v is great). (2) Sweat the shallot for a few minutes. (3) Then add the garlic and chilli flakes and turn the heat down a little. Sometimes I pour a little splash of water to make sure I don't burn the garlic (honestly there's NOTHING WORSE than tasting burnt garlic in a sauce – apart from getting ghosted, but honestly it's a toss up). (4) Most people don't add salt until the end but I'm a risk taker, so go on and add 1 tsp of salt (I use your average table salt in the cooking process then always Maldon at the end – yeah, I'm that person). You want everything to s o f t e n – so make sure it doesn't catch. (5) I then like to add all the tomatoes (halved) and pop a lid on for about five minutes. (6) Then add the anchovies if using (which you'll have chopped finely) and watch them melt into the sauce. (7) Meanwhile, boil your pasta (spaghetti, linguine or whatever floats your boat) in salt-spiked water. Keep checking the sauce – tasting and stirring – always on a low-medium heat. You want the tomatoes to burst and release their sweetness, reducing the sauce to a sexy consistency (you'll know, trust me). If you put the heat low enough, you can make this last a while, allowing all the juices to release. But if you're like me and impatient to eat dinner after a glass of wine, the sauce could be ready in 25 minutes. (8) Perhaps you'll spoon in a little pasta water to loosen things up, who knows? (9) Once the pasta has some bite, save about a 1/2 cup of the cooking water – you might not need it all, it all depends on how thick you like your sauce. If you're adding, do it slow: one spoon at a time. (10) Mix in the pasta until the sauce coats everything and there's a glossy sheen.
Taste it. Does it need salt? It probably needs a whole lot of pepper so go ham on that. Then zest AT LEAST half a lemon (I know, I'm a charlatan), sprinkle some chopped parsley then grate a shed load of parm (charlatan x 2). Eat it out of the cast iron because no one is going to see you. Drown it in olive oil. Enjoy with a glass of red (pinot noir for me pls), a side of your latest Netflix binge (would highly recommend Unorthodox), and you know what, I like to dress up cute for it – because nothing says #dateyourself like a lockdown.
my grocery list.
Usually I have a vague idea of what I need then I get really distracted by things like castelfranco lettuce at Newington Green Fruit & Veg and end up spending three times as much as I intended. It's good to have intentions (like, oh I intend not to drink wine before lunch) but also plans change and you just have to go with it. See what catches your eye when you're cruising the aisles – ideas will spark when you let go of expectations. If I'm buying meat, I head to my local butchers in Stokey – I only go a couple of times a month because I pretty much live off bread and pasta anyway. I always get my eggs from Hara, my local in Haggerston (s/o owner Kiara for being my one source of IRL human conversation) and my weekly pilgrimage to Broadway Market sees my bread basket fill with Pavilion's sourdough loaf.
local businesses.
– Berber & Q's new initiative Berber & You hopes to raise £100k to feed frontline NHS workers in hospitals local to our area throughout the coronavirus crisis. Support if you can.
– London wine delivery service Rebellious Goods who get to you scarily quick, selling wines from UK wineries like Renegade and Tillingham. Honestly Renegade's 2017 Chardonnay is life-altering.
– Oxfordshire based buttery Ampersand Butter, whose handcrafted cultured butter is salty, creamy and delicious. Thank you Anna Jones and my friend Meg for telling me about them.
food stories.
– The Cut on why you should give into Alison Roman.
– Jia Tolentino for Bon Appétit on writing, pasta and getting out of the city.
– An interview I did with food writer Bre Graham for Sonder & Tell.
if food be the music of love, play on etc.
The first of many soundtracks from me for your week of self-iso cooking.
But also this one from Bon Appétit's Alex Delaney (pls marry me) is a banger.
And this one from Scribe Winery (take me back to California).
plus a few leftovers.
How about this tip on orange peel in iced coffee?
How to make Forza Win's epic tomato sauce
Anna Jones's potato flatbreads for the weekday dinner win
Put this pea pesto from Bon Appétit on pretty much everything
Rachel Alice Roddy's simple courgette pasta is your new go-to
All I want is this tortilla de patatas c/o Basque-inspired NYC-based Ernestos
Just waiting patiently for Dumpling Shack's mala chilli oil to drop
and if you like what I'm putting down?
Tell your friends! Tell your family! Tell your lovers!