Carbonara (Guanciale, Egg, and Pecorino Romano)

More than forty years ago, I returned from a college semester in Rome to a New York still awash in thick tomato sauce. My Roman discovery, spaghetti alla carbonara, was still unknown, and my friends were skeptical of a sauce that wasn't red. Today Americans have adopted carbonara with a vengeance and feel free to vary it as they please. But while it is very tempting to add things to the basic carbonara, and far be it from us to step on your creativity, don't call it carbonara if you add mushrooms or peas or anything else. The carbonara wars are even more heated than the amatriciana wars. Not even Oretta and I agree on every detail. Oretta feels some oil helps the guanciale to cook evenly, while I, from a North American bacon culture, find that starting the guanciale in a cold pan will render enough fat to obtain the same result without introducing another ingredient and another flavor, especially one that the inventors of the dish did not use. If you start playing with the formula to reduce the cholesterol, however, just skip it and make a broccoli sauce. The more or less civil disagreements are over minor variations. There is debate over whether to use whole eggs or just yolks (it's unlikely the pastoral creators of the dish were going to whip up a meringue with the unused whites) and whether parmigiano is admissible—yes, it's widely accepted on grounds of deliciousness, but pecorino romano alone is more faithful to the lost original. Experts and aficionados pretty much agree that the meat of choice should be guanciale, with pancetta as understudy. Bacon, which is smoked, imparts an undesirable breakfasty taste. No butter, no cream—but a slosh of starchy pasta water can be used to smooth things out if you start to panic. It is incorrect to speak of "carbonara sauce" because the dish belongs to the group of pastas that are inseparable from their condiment. The ingredients are prepped and ready for action, but the "sauce"—a golden cream studded with glistening guanciale bits—is created right on the pasta itself. And, careful, "cream" here means something creamy. There is no cream in carbonara. The charcoal makers of northern Lazio, Abruzzo, and Umbria used to make it outdoors. Do you think they used butter and cream? This simple dish requires practice; don't make it for company till you've tried it in private. You will eventually develop your own moves and rhythm and find just the spot in your kitchen where everything will keep warm without cooking. Long ago I became devoted to the Salton HotrayÂ®, an electric food warmer and popular wedding present in the era of my first marriage. I still love it for carbonara (and much else). Use the best, freshest eggs you can find, and don't even think of making this dish with eggs from stressed-out battery chickens. You can taste the difference. If you can find real guanciale, so much the better. Once the eggs have been added to the pasta, do not let the pan touch the heat directly or you will wind up with scrambled eggs. A low setting on an electric food warmer, like my old Hotray, is safe and effective.

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Italian Egg Pasta Dinner

freshly ground black pepper
4 ounces (115 grams) guanciale, cut into 1/4-inch (1/2-centimeter) dice
2 generous tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, preferably lightly fruity
3 large eggs, at room temperature
10 rounded tablespoons (100 grams) freshly grated pecorino romano, or half pecorino romano and half parmigiano-reggiano
1 pound (450 grams) pasta (see note below)

dinner

pasta

egg

Preparation Put the guanciale and oil in a large skillet. SautÃ© over medium heat until the edges of the guanciale pieces are just turning brown, about 2 minutes. Don't let it get too crisp. Set the pan and its contents aside but keep warm. Bring 5 quarts (5 liters) of water to a boil in an 8-quart (8-liter) pot over high heat. When the water boils, add 3 tablespoons kosher salt, then add the pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until al dente. While the pasta is cooking, break the eggs into a small bowl and add all the cheese and a generous grinding of pepper. Whisk gently until the mixture is smooth. Drain the pasta (reserving and keeping warm a cup of its water) and put it in the skillet with the guanciale over low heat. Toss quickly to mix well. Holding the skillet slightly above but not touching the burner, pour the egg and cheese mixture in a stream into the pasta. Now, if you have the skill, toss the pasta with a deft movement of the wrist to blend all the contents of the pan. If you don't, remove the pan from the heat and mix quickly with two wooden spoons. If you have a warm spot, such as a food warmer or even over a pilot light, rest the pan there while you work. Whatever you do, work fast or the pasta will get cold and the eggs will stay raw and runny. Ideally the heat of the pasta will cook the egg just enough, and the sauce should be creamy. You can mix in a tiny bit of the reserved water to smooth things out, but you probably won't need to. Transfer to individual heated bowls or plates and serve instantaneously. Pasta shapes: The canonical pasta for carbonara is spaghetti, but bucatini are close behind. Penne and rigatoni are short formats often found alla carbonara and easier to handle in quantity. Wine suggestion: Frascati would be the choice in a Roman trattoria, but the carbonara wars extend also to the wine pairing. Suggestions range from light red Cerasuolo d'Abruzzo, to a delicate rosÃ© Franciacorta, to a sparkling white from Lombardia, to Champagne, to Barolo, a big red from Piedmont. Excerpted from Sauces & Shapes: Pasta the Italian Way by Oretta Zanini De Vita and Maureen B. Fant. Copyright Â© 2013 by Oretta Zanini De Vita and Maureen B. Fant. Photographs copyright Â© 2013 by Gentl & Hyers. With permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.

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Carbonara (Guanciale, Egg, and Pecorino Romano)

Ingredients

Nutrition facts