Inside a Pasta Factory and a Very Italian Soup.

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.

Food Label - La Tosca Salsa Di Pomodoro Tomato Paste, 1950s

‘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

Food Label - La Tosca Salsa Di Pomodoro Tomato Paste, 1950s

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. pasta-labels-2
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.

Napolitana coffee maker
A vintage Napolitana coffee maker

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.

Zuppa di Ceci con Maltagliati

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.

Zuppa di Ceci con Maltagliata
Zuppa di Ceci con Maltagliati

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

Oamaru Restaurants, New Zealand. Pubs and Cucina.

Another little room in the Criterion Hotel, Oamaru

I was so captivated by the quaint town of Oamaru in the South Island of New Zealand that I plan to return there one day to ‘loiter with intent’. This town deserves a week of strolls, dining and waiting for the light to fall on those historic and evocative limestone buildings. I’ve found a nice pub to stay in; I’ve done my homework. The Criterion Hotel, built in 1877, ticks all the right boxes for me. It is well situated in the Victorian precinct, with rooms at a sensible price and a toasty fire to sit by. The decor is just lovely and the food is very good too.

A tasty Speghts Pale ale served by Mr T.
A cleansing ale served by a gentleman.

We began our two-week road trip of the Eastern, Southern and Central half of New Zealand’s South Island in this extraordinary town. Our first day was memorable, deserving a fine beer and a lunch in this old and quiet establishment of note.

Following the lunch at the Criterion with a long walk through the town and its extensive park, we returned to the Victorian precinct in the evening to feast at Oamaru’s fine dining establishment, Cucina 1871. As the name suggests, this restaurant is Italian, but with a modern New Zealand twist, while the dessert menu is classic French. I ordered an entrée of scallops on a bed of polenta. This was a sensational small dish of creamy white polenta, a hard to source ingredient, topped with four lightly cooked fat scallops, and a puddle of brown butter sauce which included deep-fried capers. It was not a dish I was happy to share! For mains, we both ordered the squid ink pasta with local littleneck clams, or vongole, in a gentle garlic sauce. The charming woman who worked and most likely owned this restaurant mentioned that the desserts were made by a chef trained in patisserie. This is code for no sharing. They were sensational. A perfect little apple Tarte Tatin for me,  and a Creme Brulee for him, along with a small pot of something chocolaty on the side. We shared a bottle of Chard Farm Pinot Gris, a delightful wine from Central Otago. It was a fitting start to a memorable New Zealand voyage.

Cucina in Oamaru
Cucina in Oamaru

This meal was independently paid for. I rarely post restaurant reviews but both these establishments in Oamaru deserve high praise.

The Criterion Hotel, 3 Tyne St, Oamaru.  http://www.criterionhotel.co.nz/

Cucina 1871, 1 Tees St Oamaru. http://www.cucina1871.co.nz/

A selfie or sorts. Cucina, Oamaru, New Zealand
A rare selfie of sorts. Through the window of Cucina 1871, Oamaru, New Zealand