THE SWANNY COLLECTIVE
The place you go out for dinner to when you can’t be bothered going out for dinner.
The phrase "permanent pop-up" is a bit of a contradiction in terms, but it's an apt description for The Swanny Collective, the insouciantly-named, community-focused venue that exists at the site of the old Edition café in Swanbourne. Originally conceived by co-owner Anthony Arnold as a temporary exercise in serving "coffee by day, pasta by night"; to be eventually replaced with a more established restaurant, such is the popularity of the laid-back format that Arnold is considering just keeping things as is.
"As is", at this stage, is pasta nights Tues-Fri and Greek on Saturday. For the former, think a handful of ever-changing dishes – bucatini carbonara, gnocchi Bolognese, fettuccine with seafood, paccheri with goat ragu – and a smattering of typical Mediterranean snacks; octopus, haloumi, olives, bocconcini salad. For the latter, think share-style, spit-roasted meats, charred prawns, whole fish, lemon potatoes, saganaki, veg stew. Everything scrawled on the chalkboard menu looks damn delicious, and is put together using whatever seems good at the market on the day. You bring your own wine. It's one step removed from walking into someone's house and sitting at their dinner table; the place you go out for dinner to when you can't be bothered going out for dinner.
“Mind your white shirt.”
We lobbed up on a warm night for pasta, and sat on the street. The noodles aren’t made in house, but come from nearby Sal's Pasta Deli in Cottesloe – so they are handmade. Thick chewy tubes of rigatoni came covered in a rich tomato sugo tossed through with soft diced eggplant, salty olives, and capers ($23). It was a solid plate of pasta – saucy, savoury and satisfying. Mind your white shirt.
You may not have heard of paccheri; a type of pasta originating in Campania, but it is nothing particularly outrageous. It's essentially large tubular pasta, so large, in fact, that it tends not to retain its rigidity but fold down on itself like two sheets. It was an ideal foundation for a white sauce of garlic, onion, salted ricotta and a generous medley of wild mushrooms ($24). The resultant dish was earthy with deep, back-of-the-mouth mushroom flavours – a good kick of pepper providing some warmth. Tableside parm wasn't offered, but both pastas came out with a liberal dusting of cheese. Given the enthusiasm of the young waitstaff, it wouldn't be hard to imagine a request for more going unfulfilled.
“The resultant dish was earthy…”
An entrée of Sardinian octopus ($22) was no-fuss. The tentacles came diced up; not the most alluring of presentations but it avoided the "one big thick tentacle" format that can sometimes be a challenge, both mentally and logistically. The octopus was covered in a tomato sugo that was delicately sweet and flecked with fresh parsley. A liberal squeeze of the accompanying lemon wedge rendered excellent results; providing a sourness to balance the sacchariferous sauce. The octopus itself was not bad but could have spent more time on the grill.
“…that was delicately sweet…”
House tiramisu ($10), was understated yet rewarding – there's not much to say about good tiramisu except that it was indeed very good. Don't expect a deconstructed so-and-so; this tiramisu comes out unceremoniously and it looks pretty ugly. But I reckon it tastes just like Nonna would make.
The Swanny Collective is simple. The dishes are basic and rustic but made with genuine care. At one point a guy in a chef's uniform came out and asked us how we were. We said we were enjoying the food; he looked like we'd just told him he'd won the lotto. That's the spirit of this place. After all, as the name suggests, this venue is community-focussed; a collective. There's a sense of everyone being in it together. Arnold has realised that the success of a pop-up depends squarely on how much it becomes just an extension of the community around it; another house, another family; another dining table. Welcome home.