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spaghetti aglio, olio e peperoncino

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spaghetti aglio, olio e peperoncino

spaghetti aglio, olio e peperoncino

As it happens, sometimes one goes to Brighton to support Boyfriend and his band, comes back knackered and needs something to eat pronto.

Well, as usual, Italians come to the rescue (forgeet abowt eet)…Have you ever heard of spaghetti aglio, olio e peperoncino? It’s the easiest thing you can make in 7 minutes and tastes freaking delicious. Especially after you spend over an hour on the train with sad looking people in suits.

Anyway, Brighton…I like it. I know it feels like a poor version of San Francisco with their own weirdos, retired hippies, colourful youngsters and music scene booming, but hey. Everyone gets the San Francisco they deserve and I like the one I can afford.

So I was having a romantic afternoon with Boyfriend walking the streets and the Pier, holding hands, having dinner and wine, etc. Then I had the pleasure of going to Boyfriend’s band’s gig. If you’ve never heard of them, you should check them out this instant or die instantly! They are amazing. I remember the first time listening to them and being shocked that they were actually so good. And I wasn’t even going out with their drummer…yet. The band is called The October Game.

Anyway, I got distracted here thinking of Boyfriend looking sexy drumming, when there is a pasta dish to be discussed.

So, you come home, you are hungry, you want something warm and comforting.

 Spaghetti Aglio Olio e Peperoncino (or basically in plain words easy spaghetti with garlic, olive oil and other cheap bits)



3 table spoons of virgin olive oil

2-3 cloves of garlic

few red chilli flakes

handful of chopped parsley

handful of chopped walnuts

grated parmesan

 1. Boil lightly salted water for pasta.

2. When the water is boiling turn the heat down a bit and start cooking spaghetti.

3. Warm olive oil in a pan. Add crushed garlic and chilli flakes. Take off the heat when it’s done. Add chopped parsley.

4. In the meantime chop walnuts and roast them in a dry pan over medium heat. Add them to the olive oil and garlic pan.

5. Drain pasta, add to olive oil. Sprinkle with nuts and grated parmesan.

6. Serve with a sigh and red wine. You deserve it.


About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

5 responses »

  1. I’m actually pasta for my evening meal tonight. Thanks for the inspiration.


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