DIY Dinners: Bancone
DIY Dinners is a series on Pasghetti & Momatoes that takes a closer look at London’s growing restaurant kit culture.
First things first: yes, it’s a DIY restaurant kit. No, I am not in Bancone. I know you lucky folk reading this in the future are in a halcyon post-Lockdown 2.0 world, but little old pre-blog-launch me is still stuck back here, playing culinary make-believe in my mum’s kitchen.
That is not to say, however, that the age of the restaurant kit begins and ends with whatever form of lockdown we’re currently squished into. A vaccine is on the way, but normality is still pretty firmly in the shower, despite having said it would meet you at the bar 10 minutes ago.
With capacity limitations and god knows what other fun-destroying regulations set to continue eating into hospitality profits for quite some time, the restaurant kit is not going anywhere. Right now it’s a lifeline for restaurants (and for people whose culinary talents are limited to diligently following ready meal instructions), helping businesses over the line in the most difficult of circumstances.
But now it’s here, I don’t reckon we should let it go without a fight. Who would want to eat my Knorr stock cube-infused chicken noodle soup when Shoryu will send you 12-hour-simmered tonkotsu ramen broth in the post? It takes a bit of scheduling and some pocket money saved up, but 2021 dinner parties (maybe even with people from other households, please oh please) are about to get lit.
Jiggle it: Bancone’s burrata with beetroot, kale and chive oil
Pasta has emerged as one of lockdown’s gold medallists. To be fair, it didn’t have to do much. Put the word “fresh” in front of it and you have yourself the 2019 London restaurant trend to end all London restaurant trends – frankly, we were sitting ducks, weighed down by our love of carbs. It also fits through your letterbox, consists of about three components and is ready in 10 minutes at the absolute maximum. It is also, of course, pasta.
The blog is called Pasghetti & Momatoes. You can probably guess how I feel about pasta. I have a vaguely Italian-American fiancé. You can probably guess how he feels about pasta. When someone presents a way to get Bib Gourmand-worthy pasta into my belly without a tube journey, I feel very pleased indeed.
My Bancone kit kicked off with starters, because starters are better than pudding (you heard it here first and I will repeat it until I die). A joyfully jiggly ball of burrata, kale to be tossed with lemon oil, beetroot slices to marinate for 10 minutes in more oil with condimento herbs, and a lurid, lip-smacking chive oil for luminescent dribbling. Diverting slightly from the DIY mantra, I also made my own antipasti addition: tomato and basil salad because I had a plump beef tomato and some basil hanging around, and because Caprese (yes I know it has mozzarella too) is the only thing I have definitively pencilled into my death row meal plan.
Now for the pasta: ladies and gentlemen, I managed to kinda fuck it up a bit. Incredible. Let’s start with the mafalde with spicy pork ragu. I love mafalde – it kind of looks a little bit creepily anatomical, is great for picking up any goddamn bit of sauce it can and, in this instance, all the little slithers of minced pork get stuck in its intestinal little creases. The spicy bit of the “spicy pork ragu” could have come with a little more oomph, but it tasted great.
Pleasingly anatomical: Mafalde with spicy pork ragu
It also looked great – which is probably why I spent too long trying to photograph it, let the cacio e pepe sauce heat for considerably more than its prescribed three minutes, before realising, letting it cool and then reheating it again. My screw up was such that when I went to introduce the bucatini (perfectly al dente, if that remotely saves my reputation), I found I had managed to turn my lovely cacio e pepe sauce into a pool of stretchy melted cheese. I wanted to fire myself from a job I don’t even have.
Determined not to have completely ruined Bancone’s stellar work (I am sorry, I am so so sorry), a dash of milk, a spot of pasta water and some heated, expletive-inflected stirring managed to return the sauce to (almost) its intended state. While it didn’t coat the wonderful bucatini quite as silkily as I’m sure it was meant to, unctuous parmesan still did its soul-soothing thing, and black pepper smouldered rather than thwacked.
Here, I have learned two things. 1.) DIY kits are exactly like IKEA, and you need to follow the instructions to avoid the end product being about as stable as a Cheestring. 2.) Do not ever – ever – try to be Annie Leibowitz when there is a bowl of bucatini cacio e pepe at stake. Leave it man, it’s just not worth it.
This DIY kit was supplied as a complimentary press sample.
For more information, visit bancone.co.uk
