Christmas Pasta (it's a thing) 🦀

Since you asked, it's the last SNOA of 2021, so please enjoy leftovers of Christmas sized proportions.

Food For Thought.

Christmas at the Sarsfields is a small but elaborate affair. Historically, it’s only been the four of us. But if you count all the meals and courses we manage to pack into the holiday, it could easily account for a few more people. Christmas officially begins on 12th December, my father’s birthday, as that’s when we get the tree. Tradition dictates that we pick a short, stout one from Rowan’s Nursery down the road, and predictably a joke is made about how it somewhat resembles dad (although he’s much less prickly).

My mother is in charge. In life, yes, but mainly at Christmas. Meals are meticulously planned. A Christmas Day menu is drawn up (I am usually left in charge of ‘printing’). I – seemingly out of nowhere – have created a tradition of crab pasta for Christmas Eve dinner and getting extremely drunk on the white wine the rest of my family forgo for a more full-bodied red (I know, red, with fish? Heathens!). This is the only say I get. Years ago, Dad and I wordlessly made an agreement that Christmas Day would be a day of drinks, which I decided upon as a complimentary tasting menu to go with mum’s food. Breakfasts involve scrambled eggs, sausages and Bucks Fizz. We move onto Bloody Marys around 11am (when the hangover kicks in). Around lunchtime, when Christmas Dinner is still being prepped, there’s more champagne with a side of smoked salmon, buttered bread and capers. By the time starters roll around we’re onto the white.

Inevitably mum has found some sort of bargain seafood offer, and as the menu tells us (rolled into scrolls and artfully placed onto our plates), we’ll be having lobster with a crystal clear consomée that would rival those found in professional Masterchef. Then onto red – usually an amarone or barolo, big bold Italian reds picked by my brother, our very own sommelier – to go with a roast chicken. The main event is obviously the sides (OBVIOUSLY), which include but aren’t limited to: crispy brussell sprouts with bacon, orange and cumin glazed carrots, duck fat roast potatoes and the best stuffing you’ll ever eat – a heady mix of sausage meat, panko breadcrumbs, lardons, cranberries and sometimes apricots. I’m not full. You’re full.

We are not dessert people. Maybe an ice cream. Some chocolate. A plate of fruit. More wine. So. Much. More. Wine. It usually ends with me on the floor (mainly from fullness, but I can’t pretend the booze is not a factor) – see below for evidence from 2019: me, full, happy, blissfully unaware that this would be the last Christmas I spend at my family for two years. (It was also, rather luckily, the first and last I’d spend with my best friend Kyla, a perfect wine drinking partner in crime, definitely contributing to this need for a post-dinner lie down).

But not for me. Alongside many others now pivoting their Christmas to a slightly more solitary affair, we’ll be in London. There will still be crab pasta (thank you Fin & Flounder). And hopefully a Fosse Meadows chicken to roast. We’re thinking about making potato rostis instead. A few other substitutes, no doubt. Although my parents, legends that they are, have said they’ll come drop off presents, starters and stuffing (SO Kie-Jo Sarsfield) from afar. And of course there’ll be some Jackson family traditions thrown in there too.

So, to all of you celebrating in either traditional, new-traditional or not-so-traditional ways: happy holidays!

Until 2022 – which we’re all hoping will ‘be our year’. Fingers crossed.

Cat x

Recipes-not-recipes™️

I’m unsure when the tradition of making crab linguine on Christmas started, but it was definitely me who instigated it in my family. Perhaps it was around the time that I felt comfortable enough to drink in front of my parents – which began on a fateful Christmas Eve where I drank two bottles of white wine, finishing the evening shouting incorrect answers at University Challenge at midnight, then waking up on Christmas morning with the most awful hangover that prohibited me from drinking until New Year’s Eve. Yes, that sounds about right. Anyway, it’s a super simple, zingy, chilli spiked pasta that gets its gloss from pasta water and a little acid kick from lots of lemon. Don’t skimp on the parsley. Or the white wine (just don’t end up like me in 2016).

For two, you’ll need:

• Enough linguine for two people – whatever you decide

• A small glass of white wine (for the pasta; large for drinking)

• 1-2 tsp red chilli flakes (or a fresh chilli deseeded and finely chopped)

• 2-3 garlic cloves, finely diced

• 1 ripe tomato, roughly chopped

• 250g crab meat (a mix of white and brown is nice)

• Juice and zest of half a lemon

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• Handful of finely chopped parsley

Boil the pasta until just past al dente. In the meantime, head the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan on a medium heat. Add the chilli flakes and garlic. Let it sizzle (but not brown) for a couple of minutes before popping in the tomatoes. Turn the heat up a little and season generously. Pour a little white wine. Once the pasta is done, use tongs to add the linguine, then ladle in some pasta water. Next goes the lemon zest and lemon juice. Then pour in the crab meat. If you’re feeling decadent, you could throw in a little dollop of butter for extra creaminess. Use as much pasta water as you want to create a glossy sauce. Take the pasta off the heat, set it on the table and mix through the parsley and a little drizzle of extra v. Enjoy with a slurp of wine and Nigella on in the background.

Leftovers.

Eat

I have never been tempted to bake bread (far too measured) but this video actually made me want to do it because it looks SO SIMPLE and quite delicious.

If you haven’t made vodka sawce, you need to, and I love love love Dan Pelosi’s very extra recipe.

Would be happy drinking this BAO whiskey cocktail from now until Christmas.

Read

RIP Eve Babitz. One of the few writers who I read and feel so viscerally was a person who truly lived a life and didn’t just write about living one. She did both. If you haven’t read Black Swans or Sex & Rage or Slow Days, Fast Company, consider this an early Christmas present. They’ll transport you to a heady, hedonistic LA that’s both enticing and repulsing and entirely spellbinding.

I’m, of course, the target demographic for a New Yorker profile on Alison Roman. The world will be forever divided yet will still send her caramelised shallot pasta to WhatsApp groups on a regular basis.

I won’t necessarily implore you to watch And Just Like That, but I will ask you to read this very important Vulture piece that really gets to the heart (IYKYK) of the matter.

Please buy a copy of Huma Qureshi’s new book Things We Do Not Tell The People We Love. Highly recommend reading it over a glass of wine and a very large plate of pasta (recipe above).

Listen

I had drinks with my friend Lucy a couple of weeks ago and every other sentence started with “I listened to this podcast”, which is my annoying millennial faux-intellectual tick. How embarrassing. But also, I listened to this podcast about Ghislaine Maxwell and I’m obsessed. So much to unpack.

Maybe like me and my friend Jord, you are committed to hastily rewatching The O.C. during your isolation (FKA: time off before Christmas). If so then please revel in this playlist and pretend you’re listening to it on your first generation iPod.

Watch

Call me obsessed. But the three-part Sky documentary on Ghislaine Maxwell is great auxiliary content – perhaps even more beguiling seeing her and Epstein move on camera. It gives a little extra context. ICYMI, she’s on trial for sex trafficking underage girls and completely denies everything.

I loved watching Britney, which was written by and stars Charly Clive, who you might recognise from Pure (if you haven’t seen that, please do). It’s a twenty minute reflection on a long-distance, co-dependent friendship with a bittersweet ending.

Buy

Last minute gift givers, I see you. To send a little something to friends in isolation or as a thank you for dropping off groceries: a bottle of something sparkling from Shop Cuvée; any and/or all Poon’s Chinese condiments; 275g of the most delicious, salt-laden crisps from Bonilla A La Vista; an 81 day aged chicken from Fosse Meadows.

Subscribe

I don’t really talk about work on here, but I’m excited to be on board writing Laura Jackson’s Hoste newsletter – I’ve developed a new concept (with some v cute illustrations by Betsy Greaves) and it’s re-launching in January. Feel free to subscribe.

I’ve also started working (again) with the brilliant, timeless tableware company, Monoware – and yes, I’ll be writing their newsletters from January, too. The concepts are close to my heart and will feature lots of interesting people, so do sign up (it’s at the bottom of the website!).

On a less food-related note, I’ve been working with another fantastic client, Glitch – a charity on a mission to end online abuse – on a new newsletter called The Download, which will keep you informed on all the tools you need to support ending online abuse – plus any news updates/confusing terms explained/things to read.

And finally, a reminder from me and Lucy Mee, founders of the Saturday Roast Chicken Fan Club: