Linguine alle vongole

I have a problem with this food blogging lark. Don't whoop with joy Toby, I'm not giving up. It's just that I start out with the very best intentions, commence cooking and then forget to take the pictures. As you may have noticed, this is not a problem Toby suffers from... I am starting to wonder if he has a photographer discreetly concealed in his kitchen.

So here are my linguine alle vongole. Heavy on the clams. Light on the pictures.

On Friday evening I had a desperate desire to be on holiday. And holiday for me means Italy, the sea, ice cold white wine or a bright orange aperol spritz, fresh anchovies, sunbathing on a rocky beach, and linguine with clams. Their glossy olive oily, winey juices are the stuff that my holiday dreams are made of.

Yes, I know it's Spanish, but it was the best I could do...

First stop, chez Guy, Paris' best fishmonger. His shop, on the rue Montorgueil in the 2nd is actually called Soguisa if you are looking for it. But he is Guy, so to me chez Guy it is. I am actually convinced that he is my best friend (sorry Tobes...).  It's a bit like Audrey Hepburn explaining that nothing bad could ever happen to you at Tiffanys. To me, nothing bad could ever happen chez Guy. Although I am starting to think his affections are wavering. Last week he gave his phone number to my mother...

Anyway, I digress. Chez Guy I buy a huge bag of clams, plucked that morning from the Normandy waters. When I ask if they were fished that morning, Guy replies "affirmative Bébé." He calls me Bébé. Don't ask.

In italian they are vongole, in French palourdes and in English, well just make sure they are the big, fat ones, not the tiny winkle variety. Other ingredients: De Cecco Linguine or Spaghetti, dried red chilli (practically the most important thing in my condiment's cupboard - sorry, I don't really have a condiment's cupboard), garlic, flat leaf parsley, white wine (or white vermouth - handy for a concurrent martini if you fancy) and olive oil.

As soon as you get home, plunge the clams into a bowl of cold water. Every five minutes or so, drain them and start again. Do this about five times to get rid of any sand.

Boil a large quantity of salted water in your biggest pan. When it is heaving like the Med on a stormy day, add the linguine. Simultaneously, fry finely sliced garlic and a pinch of dried chill in a large frying pan. When the garlic is golden, add the drained clams, sloosh a large glass if white wine over them and clamp on the lid so that the steam can't escape. Steam them open for about 5 minutes. When you lift off the lid, you will be in Positano, I promise.

By this time, your linguine should be cooked al dente. Drain, add a sloosh of olive oil, a pinch of salt, a handful of chopped parsley and the clams. Their juices should suffice to coat the pasta and provide that glossy olive oily, winey sauce that this dish is famed for.

Kate, Positano, Paris, June 2013

Friday night Italian

Ok, so clearly I had better up my game. Toby has moved into fully fledged food photographer mode whilst I have nothing to show for my last few week's culinary efforts.

Until now... Friday night Italian (with a little help from the French - I couldn't find an Italian to pose with the linguine but I found a handy Frenchman to fill in instead).

A little salad of nectarines, mozzarella, rocket, Parma ham and pine nuts to start.

This is construction cooking at its best. There is no real cooking to speak of at all in fact. If you really insist you can toast the pine nuts in a frying pan. Beware ! They "turn" very quickly and before you know it your teeny bag of fearfully expensive pignoli may be a lot darker than you intended. As for the rest, a small amount of slicing, a bit of scattering, some slooshing (of your best olive oil and balsamic vinegar) and you're all done and ready to move onto the next course : crab linguine.

The ingredients' list is gloriously short: linguine (De Cecco or similar), a pinch of dried chilli, one clove of garlic, a tin of crabmeat, a handful of rocket or flat leaf parsley and one lemon.

Boil masses of salted water in your biggest pan. (I lived in Italy for a while and was always amazed to see pans that I would have only used for a stew for ten being hauled out on a nightly basis for spaghetti for two.) Whilst the linguine is cooking, slice the garlic finely and add it with a pinch of dried chill to a hot frying pan with some olive oil. When it's golden, add the crabmeat, some finely chopped lemon rind, the juice of the lemon and warm gently. When the spaghetti is cooked drain it, keeping about a tea-cup full of the cooking water. In your huge pan mix together the linguine, the rocket, a good sloosh of olive oil and of the cooking water, plenty of salt and pepper and your warmed crab mixture.

Eat whilst drinking the crispest, coldest white you can find and listening to Italian pop music. Or at least that's what I do...

Kate, Paris, 14th June