Back Pocket Carbonara
Why we love this easy Italian comfort food
Issue 44: From Dana
A little update from my empty nest: after sending my son Jack off to college, and stressing over whether I’d done my parental duty of setting him up for his best food life (the subject of my last newsletter), he’s been texting reassurances that he’s doing just fine in that arena.
First he asked if I could send his chef’s knife, some pots and pans, and “extra butter and cheese.” (A kid after my own heart!) Then, yesterday, came this:
“Making pasta carbonara tonight for friends. Any secret tips? I know how to make it, but, like anything extra?”
Where does a carbonara-loving/cooking teacher/food writer/Italophile of a mom begin?
Let’s back up for a sec, just for a some context. Jack grew up loving carbonara, the creamy sauce made with not much more than bacon, eggs and cheese (and no cream) that’s often attributed to Rome and is actually a pretty recent addition to the Italian canon. (The name stems from the Italian word for “coal-burner; a hint that it may have originated as an easy meal for coal-workers. You can read La Cucina Italiana’s great history of it here.)
Carbonara is universally appealing, but it wholly and especially speaks to kids’ cheesy, saucy pasta cravings. It was my back pocket dinner when I’d come home late from work because I could whip it up with ingredients I always had on hand and easily feed our family 10 minutes after I walked in through the door. I have a lot of guilt about those years when my husband and I were crazy busy with work, always rushing to the subway later than intended, sending apologetic texts to our sitter, then eating closer to other kids’ bedtimes. Carbonara, and the instant gratification it delivered, assuaged that guilt a bit.
It’s also the kind of effortless meal you can cook together with kids—or anyone—without looking at a recipe or stressing out. Jack and I would catch up about the day as he grated cheese and I cooked the pasta and bacon. I’d ladle out water from the pot and he’d whisk eggs and cheese into a silky sauce before I tossed it with the pasta. Basta. Finito. Perfetto.
He’d eat every last sauce-slicked strand and often angle for some of mine. As a cook, I appreciate the fact that the full-on comfort carbonara delivers is disproportionate to the ease with which it comes together. The real lesson here is that some things this good really are just that damn easy.
To see it made is to believe it. Check this out:
But sure, there are some extra carbonara secrets I’ve picked up over the years, so Jack was smart to ask. Here’s what I texted him back:
1. Use the best ingredients you can find because it really makes a difference in a dish this simple. Spring for good parm and/or pecorino, NOT the stuff out of a jar. If you can get farm fresh eggs, use those.
2. Make sure to cook the pasta al dente, or “to the tooth”: 1 to 2 minutes shy of the package instructions. Spaghetti is great but even better is bucatini, the thick strand pasta with a hole in the center that soaks up even more sauce.
3. Be super careful the water isn’t too hot or the eggs will overcook and scramble. It should be warm enough to melt the cheese and you should add it gradually as you whisk it into the glossy sauce.
4. If you’re cooking for vegetarians, saute some sliced mushrooms (any kind will work, but I like cremini) and use them in place of bacon.
5. If you’re using bacon (or guanciale, the meatier cured pork jowl, which is traditional; or pancetta, the fattier Italian bacon) don’t cook it too crisp; you want the meat to give a little, not crumble apart.
6. Serve your carbonara with something bright and green like an arugula salad or broccoli rabe with lots of garlic and lemon zest.
All night long, I was rooting for him and curious how his meal came out, who he was cooking for, how he liked his dorm’s communal kitchen. Early the next morning, I woke up to a text that simply said “SO GOOD.”
I asked if he had photos. “Nope,” he texted back. “We were too busy eating.”
Pasta alla Carbonara
Serves 4-6
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, smashed
6 ounces pancetta, bacon or guanciale, cut into thin strips (optional; for a vegetarian version, substitute 8 ounces of thin sliced mushrooms)
1 pound dry strand pasta (such as spaghetti or bucatini)
1/2 cup grated Parmesan and/or Pecorino cheese, plus more for garnish
2 tablespoons finely chopped flat leaf Italian parsley
2 large eggs plus one egg yolk
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Set a large pot of heavily salted water (it should taste like the ocean) to boil.
Heat the oil in a skillet or Dutch oven over medium. Add the garlic and cook until golden brown and aromatic, about 1 minute. Remove and discard the garlic. Add the pancetta or mushrooms and cook until the pancetta is crisp or the mushrooms are soft and all the water released has cooked away, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon or mushrooms to a plate lined with a paper towel. (If using pancetta, pour out and reserve the drippings for another use.)
Cook the pasta in the boiling water until just al dente (1 to 2 minutes shy of the package instructions). Reserve 1/4 cup of the cooking water, then drain the pasta.
In the cooled skillet or Dutch oven (or a large bowl), whisk the Parmesan, parsley, eggs, and egg yolk until smooth. Gradually whisk in the reserved pasta water (it should still be warm) to form a glossy sauce, then toss with the cooked pasta and pancetta or mushrooms. Season with salt and lots of black pepper and garnish with more Parmesan.