Despite having never actually worked as a chef—which I doubt surprises anyone who’s seen me try to poach an egg—I occasionally like to evoke the feeling of being an off-duty chef. A feeling that usually involves deli containers. I did famously spend five years as a bartender which lends some modest credence to this notion; I nonetheless respect and fear the actual dinner service shift. This recipe for pasta with two chillis is the kind of hastily-won, stupid-simple dish that you might bleary-eyedly whip up for yourself after many hours of plating filet mignon for uncaring customers, or indeed, after many hours of doing anything. It’s fast, it’s furious, it revives and recalibrates, and it’s so delicious that I’m feeling self-congratulatory in a “my viral pasta with two chillis” way (even though the word ‘viral’ next to any recipe is foul and vulgar and we shall speak no more of it!). And really, this is merely a descendent of say, Pad Kee Mao, and the sacred art of throwing spoonfuls of Lao Gan Ma onto noodles.  

To that end, there are two things you have to overcome here: your chilli tolerance—only you will know if this recipe is tantamount to baby food or horrifyingly spicy. It’s intended to have heat, so you have to let that one go and not ask for substitutes, but if you’re especially trepidatious, look for the biggest floppy red chillis you can find, as they tend to be relatively mild. The other factor is your simplicity tolerance. This really is pasta and red chilli, adorned only with black pepper. You’ll have to trust me when I say this opens up a world of flavour, without need for any augmentation.

To the recipe: The chilli’s punchy pungency does, as I noted above, somehow suggest so much more than what is present—its dried-fruitiness comes to the surface with the fruitiness of the olive oil, but I could’ve sworn I tasted garlic and lemon too. Though undeniably spicy, the heat factor doesn’t overwhelm the palate—you taste the heat, but you taste everything else too, and besides, it’s diluted through all that pasta, like shreds of red satin falling on the ribbons of fettuccine.

It’s not a technique so much as a step that I thought of, but I do think the split olive oil approach—first to fry the chillis, with an extra slosh of olive oil stirred in off the heat—helps coax out every last molecule of flavour, richness, fragrance and complexity.

Finally, it bears repeating that it’s SO easy. You fry the chillis while the pasta is cooking, and that’s it. The hardest part is remembering not to rub your eyes after chopping the chillis; I myself am a frequent cautionary tale in this regard.

For more recipes that make the most of chilli, I also suggest these Noodles with Smoky Gochujang Bokkeum (rambunctious, heady, impressive), this Feta with Chilli Oil Pine Nuts, (textural, a snack of magnificent contrasts) this Bucatini with Chilli Oil Pumpkin Seeds (aromatic, easy, a natural antecedent to this recipe), or this Chilli Corn Macaroni (buttery, corny, vegan).

Pasta with two chillis

It is what it says it is, and yet—so much more. Fiery, aromatic, exceptionally delicious. As always, before shopping for these or any ingredients, I recommend checking out the Boycott Aotearoa zines so you know which brands to avoid. Recipe by myself.

• 150g long pasta, I like fettuccine here
• 2 large red chillis
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• salt
• freshly ground black pepper

1: Bring a large pan of water to the boil, or do as I do—which, I’m not entirely sure saves that much time—and boil a full jug of water before pouring it into your pan. Once the water is boiling, either way, add a couple teaaspoons of salt and cook the 150g pasta for twelve minutes; or until al dente.

2: While this is happening, dissect the two red chillis down the middle and flick out the seeds into the sink or bin. Finely chop the deseeded flesh into small red dice.

3: In another, smaller frying pan, warm up one tablespoon of the olive oil and gently fry the diced chilli, sprinkled with a pinch more salt, for about three minutes. Stir regularly—it will sizzle and fade slightly in colour—but don’t let it brown too much.  

4: Drain the pasta once it’s done, reserving a few spoonfuls of the pasta water. Remove the pan of chilli from the heat at this point too. Stir the pasta into the pan of fried chilli, add a binding few drops of pasta water, the remaining tablespoon of olive oil and a good hearty pinch of freshly ground pepper. Divide between two plates. Scatter over a little more black pepper, check if it needs more salt, and you’re done.

Serves 2, lightly.

Notes:

• If you’re both simply ravenous, simply up the pasta to 200g and keep everything else as is, with perhaps another slosh of olive oil.
• The chain supermarket I got to tends to only sell cayenne chillis, which are quite hot yet fragrant and I’m happy to recommend them.

what I’ve been listening to lately:

And Eve was Weak, performed here by Betty Buckley and Linzi Hateley from the original Broadway production of Carrie, based on the eponymous film. We saw a magnificent local production of this at the Glen Eden Playhouse; the libretto is so steeped in cruelty and menace! Obviously I love and cherish Marin Mazzie’s Margaret, may she rest in peace, but there’s just something about Betty Buckley’s hornet-buzzing vibrato and religious fervour.  

Pikipiki by Geneva AM, with Samara Alofa, Hawkins, Rewi McLay and Mara TK. She won the Taite prize for best debut last month and it’s so clear why! This title song from her album is electrifying, with a kind of 90s eurodance optimism (I’m thinking of like, Real McCoy and Snap! and Tell Me When by the Human League), but also the whole album rules.

Classic Line-Up by The Pastels. I genuinely love when a singer is lightly jogging to catch up with the melody! Or is the melody jogging ahead of the singer? Either way, there’s a kind of slipstream happening here.    

PS: Feeling hopeless is a luxury that serves no one but those perpetrating the hopelessness, despite the hopelessness being accelerated beyond comprehension daily. The people of Palestine need us now more than ever; aside from directly sending money when you see personal videos pop up as you scroll, you can support:

• ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal, who are connected with teams on the ground in Gaza.
• Convoys of Good, another registered NZ charity distributing aid.
• Please visit Chuffed—they’re one of the few spaces providing families in Palestine with official crowd-funding platforms, as well as for other urgent causes.
• As I’ve already mentioned, you can also demonstrate your control and power through the absence of your dollars. Boycott Zine Aotearoa has helpfully put together two comprehensive free zines so you can quickly see who to studiously avoid when buying food, drinks, household items and beauty products.
• You can also check out the Pro-Palestine Business Aotearoa account by the same people for a very solid list of places to actively focus your consumer attention on.