Gnocchi, Tucci & jasmine-scented nights

To a cookbook

I became aware of English food writer Ruby Tandoh’s Gnocchi with Chilli Crisp Oil, Capers and Parmesan dish a few months back when Nigella Lawson quote tweeted the recipe. I filed it away in my mind, promptly lost the file, and found it again when I borrowed Tandoh’s excellent and comprehensive book, Cook As You Are, from the library. 

Tandoh writes about eating and cooking in a thoroughly inclusive way. Take this, from the introduction to Cook As You Are: “Too often when we cook, we turn the old cliché inside out: instead of you are what you eat, it becomes you eat what you want to be – how you think you should be, what you believe you deserve … We try to cook ourselves better somehow – maybe into a different body or a bigger kitchen or a more accomplished persona – instead of meeting our hungers here and now, as we are.” So insightful, so reassuring, so bloody smart. She has an intuitive approach, and it’s, frankly, thrilling. There aren’t any photos in the book, which she says is a conscious choice (a further commitment to inclusion), and I find that very chic. There are loads of ingredient substitution suggestions, vegetarian/vegan swaps, and tips on further reading. I can’t wait to get my hands on her other books.

Now, to the gnocchi¹. Once you’ve made it, you probably won’t need the recipe again – it’s that easy. Just five ingredients. No preparation or chopping – just a bowl of umami/salty deliciousness in minutes. I made half the recipe for two people. You could easily scale it up or down depending on your crowd. If you can’t find chilli crisp oil at your supermarket, you’ll definitely find it in an Asian grocer or online.

I’ve flagged some other recipes to make before I have to return the book to the library, including the Galaxy Granola, Cacio e Pepe Lasagne, and Orange, Olive Oil and Black Pepper Cake. It’s very possible I’ll need my own copy on my (already quite full) cookbook shelf. I’m a sucker for a cookbook. 

To a TV show

A few years back actor Stanley Tucci (The Devil Wears Prada, The Lovely Bones) was on nearly every podcast I listen to, spruiking a show called Searching for Italy. (This was about a year after he got internet famous for making negronis.) I heard a lot about the show, and thought, it’s probably not available in Australia but it sounds lovely. It may have been available back then and I just didn’t bother to look, but it’s definitely available now, and for free on SBS On Demand. 

It’s a documentary in which a crisply dressed Tucci visits the cities of Italy (one per episode), delving into their unique food cultures – both their historical and modern-day incarnations. He meets old and new friends (his wife drops in at one point), and eats at hole-in-the-wall eateries, and in high-end restaurants. It’s travel – but with money, and without the sweaty feet. I’ve seen the first three episodes of season one (Naples and the Amalfi Coast, Rome and Bologna), and they’re a real treat for the eyes and the taste buds. 

Alongside the stunning scenery, the mouth-watering food, and the thought-provoking conversations, is Tucci himself. He’s such a drawcard as a presenter. His understated style allows his guests to shine – really not what you’d expect from a Hollywood actor. 

And his outfits! In the first episode he spends a lot of time wearing a bright white shirt, but spends not one on-screen moment looking grubby. In one scene he’s crouching in a dusty field, eating a dripping San Marzano tomato … and he of course remains perfectly groomed. It’s all part of the Tucci glamour. He is, simply, all charm.  

Before you watch a second of this show, do a little planning. You really must organise yourself some kind of delicious pizza or pasta for dinner, because the food looks so, so good that you’ll kick yourself if you’ve got nothing in the fridge. (I.e. don’t be me. I watched it, then could not move on with my life until I’d eaten something Italian, but was ill-prepared so hastily prepared some fettuccine and jar sauce. Do better, I implore you!) There’s a second series, and I hope SBS have nabbed that, too. 

To a novel

You know when you read a novel in a day that it’s a good ’un. I won’t bore you with the details of why I had a spare day to read a novel (head cold), but I did, and I’m so glad I got to spend it in the company of Between You & Me by debut novelist Joanna Horton. (And a big thank you to my lovely friend, Liz, who lent it to me.)

When you’re sick and isolated, do you ever get that hazy, melancholic feeling that the rest of the world no longer exists? It’s a drifty, weightless sensation. I’m certain that whatever happens when you’re in that state takes up residence in a separate part of your brain. In this case, because of the intensity of the reading experience, this book, these characters have imprinted themselves on my psyche in a way that the next book I read, whatever the quality, will not. 

And what indelible characters they are. Mari and Elisabeth have been friends since they started uni. They’re twenty-five now, and working out who they are and where they fit in the world. They’re smart – the kind of people who talk about “good politics”, neoliberalism, and Simone de Beauvoir. They live in share houses, and they’re proud of the debauchery and the tumbledown-edness. They are bohemians, they are young, and enjoying playing at being adults. Their friendship is built on love, but it’s not without its problems. There’s secrecy, one-upmanship and high-mindedness tangled up in their fierce companionship.

They meet a man in his mid-forties, Jack – a senior lecturer in history at a university – who turns out to be the perfect accompaniment to a summer of gin and tonics and self-discovery. He has an apartment of his own, a clean car and a credit card. He becomes part of their world, and part of a love triangle that feels illicit and becomes increasingly complicated. 

One of the aspects I particularly loved is the setting: “... Brisbane – it’s not Sydney, it’s not Melbourne, it’s the other one”. I lived in Brisbane for a few very influential years and this book sparked a longing in me I didn’t know was there – for nights that smell like “jasmine and damp concrete”, and other singularly Brisbane things. 

This propulsive book, about class, power and love goes to really surprising places that I won’t go into (no spoilers), except to say that its evocation of early motherhood felt gaspingly real. 

If you’ve already read this one, and are chasing something similar, it made me think of Seeing Other People, by Diana Reid, Conversations with Friends, by Sally Rooney, and A Lonely Girl is a Dangerous Thing, by Jessie Tu.  

Endnote

Thank you for reading. You can find me on Insta @mothtoanewsletter. If you think a friend would like MOTH TO A, I’d love for you to forward it onto them. See you next Sunday. R

1. After I wrote this, I read that it’s her favourite recipe in the book. I feel so smug.