To know Adelaide’s food scene is to know the name Enzo Clappis, the man who taught South Australians how to fall in love with garlic, calamari, and courage.

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Born in Pola, in the once-Italian, now-Croatian region of Istria, Enzo’s childhood was torn apart by war and shifting borders. The communists came, and his family fled, refugees with nothing but hope and recipes stitched into memory. In 1951, a seventeen-year-old Enzo stepped off the migrant ship Fairsea, determined to build something new on the far side of the world.

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At first, he washed dishes and picked grapes. Australia was suspicious of his accent, his olive oil, his enthusiasm. But food became his weapon against loneliness. In a tiny boarding house kitchen, he cooked for thirty men and changed the way they thought about “foreign” food. His calamari, once used only as bait, became a legend in itself.

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By 1966, Enzo had transformed tragedy into triumph. With the financial help of his friend Ilario Lamberto, he took over a small Adelaide restaurant and renamed it Buonasera “Good Evening.” The name was simple; the vision, revolutionary. For the first time, South Australians dined on al dente pasta, rich ragù, and espresso beneath the stars.

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From there, the legend grew: Enzo’s Burnside Village, Enzo’s Kent Town, the Maylands Hotel, each a new chapter in his love story with food and community. He earned the affectionate title “King of Offal,” turning the humble parts of the animal into dishes of beauty and boldness. He wasn’t just a chef; he was a poet of the palate, a craftsman of culture.

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Enzo’s legacy is not written in recipes but in people, his son Andy, who carries the torch at Willunga Hill, and the countless chefs he mentored who now define modern Australian dining. He showed that food could heal displacement, transform prejudice, and build family across oceans.

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When you think of Enzo, imagine the clatter of cutlery, a bottle of Chianti, and laughter spilling into the Adelaide night. That was his church, his home, his kingdom.