It is hard to imagine a world without pasta. Italian style pasta was unknown to most Australian households until the 1970s, despite the presence of Italian pasta manufacturers here in Melbourne. One of the earliest producers of quality pasta, Nello Borghesi, established La Tosca Company in 1947 in Bennett’s Lane, Melbourne. They eventually moved to a larger factory in Brunswick in 1971.
“Before then, Melbourne’s Italian community were largely the only customers of this fine pasta. By the 1970s many new Italian restaurants emerged: it was, for many families of Anglo-Saxon background, the first time they had tasted real pasta beyond spaghetti or macaroni from a can.” ¹
Dried pasta could be bought in supermarkets, especially around Carlton and Brunswick, but it was still unusual to eat pasta at home regularly, and when it did make a regular appearance, it came only in one form: the ubiquitous Spaghetti Bolognese.
‘The Borghesi found it challenging at first to introduce the pasta to the Anglo-Australian consumers. The Italian Australian market also had to be convinced that the product was as good as that which they could make themselves. The pasta would be made in the mornings, then delivered in the afternoons in the family van. It was a very labour intensive process and the whole family would help in the production. Deliveries were made to most Melbourne Italian food outlets and restaurants, such as Florentino’s, The Latin, and Mario’s. By the 1960s, the clientele grew to catering for weddings and non-Italian cafes, and then the business really took off. In the 1960s, the delivery of dry pasta was replaced by frozen products.”¹
The Borghesi business and I became very well acquainted in 1997 when I decided to take a job at La Tosca Pasta Company in Victoria Street, Brunswick, a suburb of Melbourne. This short-lived factory job was wedged between one era of teaching and another, a time when I felt lost in my search for meaningful work. I took the job thinking that it might be interesting to work in a completely different field, to do some physical work for a change, and that the Italian staff might help me acquire a better grasp of idiomatic Italian. I had finished a degree in Italian, followed by three years translating an autobiography. Without daily interaction in Italian, I feared that I might lose the language. So off to La Tosca I went.
Our working day started at 8 am precisely. We would begin by moving the racks of drying spaghetti, linguine or tagliatelle which had been stored on wooden drying rods in darkened rooms overnight. The pasta was carefully scooped off the rods, taking care not to break any of the brittle strands, and bundled neatly onto the bench for packing. Each stack was then weighed to a precise weight: after a while it was easy to gauge this visually. The pasta was placed in small boxes, ready for the machine to wrap and seal with the La Tosca logo. These packets were then placed in large boxes, twenty to a box, ready for the delivery trucks. The work was relentless and swift: there was no time for conversation beyond the conveying of basic instructions. 
At 10 am on the dot, a whistle would sound, and a short Neapolitan woman would yell “Andiamo,” let’s go. All activity ceased instantly, machines and work stations were abandoned, the factory floor silenced by the call to coffee. We climbed the narrow stairs in single file and gathered in a cramped morning tea room above the factory floor for a piccolo cafe ristretto, made in an old beaten up aluminium Napolitana by the Andiamo lady. Ten minutes later it was back to work. Huge dough mixers gyrated above, operated by men on platforms, moving effortlessly in a noisy industrial ballet. Other machines chugged permanently in the background- pasta cutters, ravioli stuffers, packing machines- the factory floor was alive with mechanical noise. The strong coffee kept us going for more back-breaking work, boxing, stacking, wrapping, then sweeping, constantly in piedi for the 8 hour working day. I lasted for about 6 weeks at the La Tosca Pasta factory- the unremitting noise eventually drove me demented, my legs longed for that moment of rest and my back was trashed. I began to consider other forms of paid work.
In that short time, I came to admire the endurance and stamina of these women who had worked in factories since migrating to Australia in the 1950s and 60s, sturdy middle- aged and older women, dressed in sensible and spotlessly clean factory uniforms, standing solidly on concrete floors in stockinged legs and sensible shoes. The work was hard and relentless. They made the pasta that Melbourne came to love.
Melbourne’s Italianita´can be found far more easily without taking such drastic steps, as I was to discover. Inner city libraries specialise in Italian film and magazine collections, there is a local Italian newspaper, Il Globo, an annual Italian film festival, numerous Italian regional and cultural clubs as well as fresh markets, delis, restaurants, and Italian supermarkets. Melbourne’s Italian manufacturing centred around pasta, cheese making, salami and shoes, though this was far more pronounced in the last century than it is today.
Zuppa di Ceci con Maltagliati- Chick pea soup with Pasta Offcuts.
I recently made a large batch of pasta and after cutting the square shapes for some cannelloni, I was left with a nice pile of maltagliati, irregular shaped off cuts. ( I often call these cenci or stracci too ) These little pieces make a wonderful addition to a rustic soup, which can be thrown together in minutes, becoming a meal in a bowl. Like many good Italian recipes, my quantities are approximate. The soup is designed to be eaten at once- any soup with pasta is not suitable to be eaten the next day. The amount below makes three good serves.
Ingredients
- 2 -3 large garlic cloves, chopped finely
- one stem fresh rosemary, leaves stripped, finely chopped
- 4-6 anchovy fillets
- one dried chilli, finely chopped
- a generous glug of EV olive oil
- cooked chick peas- around two cups ( if using canned chick peas, drain off well and rinse off that awful preserving liquid)
- one vegetable stock cube with water or home-made stock, vegetable or chicken.
- Fresh pasta offcuts/maltagliati
- Italian parsley, finely chopped
- black pepper to taste
- grated Parmigiano to serve
Using a heavy based saucepan, add the oil to the pan and gently fry off the soffritto, the garlic, anchovy, chilli, and rosemary, pressing the anchovies to a paste as you go.
Add the chickpeas and stock to cover (or water and stockcube). Bring slowly to the boil, then add the pasta pieces. Fresh pasta should cook in two minutes- if the pasta has been left overnight, allow a little longer. Taste as you go. Season with black pepper. Serve with ample parmesan cheese.
Some Melbournian Italian links this month.
¹A brief background on the Borghese family can be found here. https://museumvictoria.com.au/discoverycentre/infosheets/the-melbourne-story/selling-pasta-to-melbourne/
Melbourne’s Immigration Museum holds a vast collection of Italian memorabilia and an extensive library on Immigrazione Italiana in Australia.
Other Italian events in Melbourne: From Volcanoes We Sailed: Connecting Aeolian Generations. Immigration Museum until October 30, 2016.
Italian Salami Festa. Northcote Town Hall, October 9 http://www.italianicious.com.au/news/article/melbourne-salami-festa-tickets-now-on-sale
ALMOST ITALIAN 
Loved this, Fra! You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the La Tosca brand here – all the ones we use are imported from Italy. Fresh pasta we buy from our mate Joe at Peppe’s Pasta. I can just see you working away in that noisy, focused factory for six weeks – not much chance to practice your Italian really in amongst the din! 🙂
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No chance at all of picking up ant lingo and besides, most of the women spoke dialect- Siciliani. That work prepared me well for my re-entry into teaching for another 10 years- trading mental stress for physical stress, but at least I got to teach Italian all day, so could stay in the loop.
Our local pasta brand is La Triestina, you might see it in Sydney. I just rang the new owner of La Tosca Pasta – there have been two interim owners since the Borghese family. I now have to hunt down their pasta.
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What a delightful story Signora. No wonder you are a Pasta Master. Did you know that in the early days of Italian immigration to Italy the only place they could buy olive oil was a chemist? No one knew what it was for. Mamma Rosa didn’t work in a pasta factory, as a new migrant she worked in the Speedo factory (in an era when Australia actually did its own manufacturing) with many other new Italian migrant women; she still talks about those days and the comraderie with great fondness.
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Thanks Signorina. Yes I did know that about Olive Oil. I’m glad your mother has fond memories of her days working hard in the speedo factory. ( you know who came to mind when you mentioned speedos!). Italian women worked hard and were the backbone of this nation.
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This is awesome food Francesca, after almost 41 years of working with Italians I miss it very much. Note: I only miss the food, not the work!
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Haha, yes. The work is hard, so you need to eat very well.
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One day when you have time, could you please explain how that coffee maker works/worked? Thank you!
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Hahaha, yes, will do.
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What a cool experience for you Francesca! Did it help with your Italian? I’m making that soup recipe…perfect time of year for it.
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No, it didn’t help at all. Too busy. Teaching Italian at high school taught me so much more.
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Great post, great food!
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Thanks Maree
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You lasted about 5.5 weeks longer than I would have in that job, Francesca! One of those life experiences that is colourful to look back on but you wouldn’t want to repeat it, I imagine. That Napolitana looks very interesting. The soup looks delicious, and that photo of the pasta at the top looks very sensuous! Thank you for a very interesting read.
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That’s an interesting insight, Francesca. I have absolute admiration for those migrants and their resilience. I would not have made the grade as far as speed and precision goes – I once was demoted on a Christmas dinner serving line in a Salvation Army hostel – my job was to serve the mashed potato and gravy – but I was ‘placing’ it rather than dolloping it and I was downgraded to gravy sloshing. I love the look of that coffee pot and your soup looks so delicious.
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I remember La Tosca pasta and esp their sugodoro. It was an essential ingredient in my Dad’s parma recipe C1965 after he returned from working in Milan for 6 months. I’m sure your experience working there hard, but edifying, it was a gutsy move on your part…
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What a wonderful post!
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What a wonderful experience! Your story was told with just the right touch of nostalgia. The Andiamo lady must have been (or still is, I hope) a colourful character. After working such physically demanding jobs – even if only for a short time – does give one a respect for workers’ fortitude. Been there myself (again only for a short stint – picking grapes and scrubbing out fermentation tanks). Funnily enough, I just got a packet of cooked chickpeas out of the freezer. The soup looks divine, especially as the weather is beginning (finally!!!) to turn cool.
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This crazy stint was done at the age of 47- a bit old for this work, though most of the women were older than me at the time. I was so mentally stressed out, I needed that work. I think it helped me put things in perspective.
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I enjoyed reading your memories of your time making pasta. I wonder how those women managed to work there long term, it sounds like the conditions weren’t ideal at all.
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The conditions were not good. But I suspect conditions in many factories are fairly bad. Many were injured along the way. Many new migrants don’t have a great deal of choice when it comes to work. The italian women in Melbourne worked hard, paid off mortgages, paid fees at Catholic schools and more- a life of sacrifice really.
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A beautiful account. Glad to see the Napolitana coffee pot. Amore wished to please me and bought one for my Turkish style coffee which I keep buying in Slovenia on visits and bringing home to Italy, no matter how much Italians would smirk at it. He hates the grounds and thought I must hate it too. 🙂 However, the taste is nothing like when I brew it my way. (Also, I’ve been reading My Brilliant Friend series and have been a bit under the influence. :0)
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Thanks MMM, What a great series. You will never be the same after being immersed in Ferrante’s world.
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Uhh, I already am, in all kinds of directions.
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If you were going to substitute something for the anchovies to vegetarianize the soup, what would you use??
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I would leave them out, or use a parmesan rind, or maybe a small handful of chopped capers to get that salty base. Or make sure that the vegetable stock is a really tasty one.
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Thanks. Good suggestions, all of them.
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Hi Francesca,
A wonderful post!
It was another Time!
Old ladies of La Tosca have nearly all passed away!
Any idea of recipe of “SugoDoro” of La Tosca?
We had a Grocery store and sold tonnes of this sauce.
New owners of La Tosca Don’t know the old recipe.!
What was the secret ingredient of “SugoDoro”
Would like to taste “Sugo Doro ” again.
Its A quest!
Please Help! Anyone?
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