Carbonara by Gary Allen
In 1981, Calvin Trillin suggested, in The New Yorker, that Thanksgiving would be improved by skipping the usual dried-out turkeyand substituting succulent spaghetti carbonara. Of course, he also wanted to live on Santo Prosciutto, a mythical Caribbean island steeped in Italian culinary traditions.
What, exactly, was his turkey-replacing dish? Waverley Roots classic The Food of Italy (1971) gives carbonara but sixteen words (although he does call it a particular favorite). The Dictionary of Italian Cuisine defines it as:
Pasta (usually spaghetti) with egg yolks, Guanciale, Pecorino Romano or (less traditionally) Parmesan cheese, and black pepper. Variations from these few ingredients are common, but they are not called carbonara, at least not in Italy. Cream is not an ingredient of true carbonara; it is an aid to inexperienced cooks who have trouble getting the eggs to the right consistency without it.
The recipe for this Roman specialty is remarkably simple, yet its ingredients need some explanation.
Guanciale is seasoned and air-curedbut unsmokedItalian bacon, cut from the cheek of the hog (as opposed to the belly, in American bacon, or tenderloin, in Canadian bacon). It is similar to pancetta, but its texture is firmer. Think prosciutto, but with much more luxurious fat.
Pecorino Romano is a sharp grating cheese made from sheeps milk (unlike the sweeter cows milk Parmigiano). While it is made in Lazio (home to Rome), it is also made elsewhere, however its style is definitely Roman.
Whole eggs can be used, but can easily become scrambled (which is why beginners sometimes resort to adding cream); egg yolks alone will yield a perfectly creamy result, and golden color, when cooked only by the pastas heat.
The name carbonara suggests a number of folk etymologies that have become attached to the dish. The Dictionary of Italian Cuisine eliminates one of them: Carbonara is the name of a town, near Bari, and is not related to pasta alla carbonara.
One of these pseudo-histories claims that the name comes from the wives of coal miners or charcoal makers (just as meuniere refers to a French millers wife). This is somewhat suspect, as neither mining nor charcoal-making are major businesses in Rome. Another suggests that the dish was a favorite of the Carbonari, an Italian political secret society. This is more appealing, especially since it mirrors the history of the Slow Food movement (that began among Italian leftists, whobeing Italian first, and communist secondalways wanted to know the best places to eat when meeting with fellow travelers). Yet another version of the story says that the dish originated when Allied forces entered Rome during World War II. Supposedly, their rations included bacon (highly doubtful) and powdered eggs (probable, but not very appetizing)and welcoming Romans invented the dish to make use of these ingredients. Creating wonderful dishes from whatever is available is very Italian, but the story doesnt ring completely true. Spam™ would have been more likely than baconand pasta with spam and eggs sounds more Monty Python than cucina rustica.
The time period is probably accurate, though, since the dish was first mentioned in The New York Times in the July 12, 1954 issue (never one to be the first to mention a new trend, and nine years for the good gray lady is just fashionably late). The articles title, News of Food; When in Rome, You Eat Magnificent Meals in Simple Restaurants, is generally good advice (at least it was when we went searching for good carbonara). One thing we discovered was that the guanciale was always cut exactly the same way: in little strips, one and a half inches long.
Whatever the true story of the dishs origins, the likeliest explanation of the name is the presence of specks of black pepper in the dish that look like bits of coal or charcoal.
As for Trillins plan to delete turkey from the familys Thanksgiving menu: they tried it just once (his wife, Alice, found the experience too depressing to repeat). But good stories dont die easily, and Trillin had to tell it during succeeding holiday seasons. Once, he even heard himself, on his car radio, expounding the virtues of spaghetti carbonarawhile driving to a friends house to partake in a traditional Thanksgiving turkey dinner.
Spaghetti alla Carbonara
In the past few years, spaghetti carbonara has been subject to all sorts of little improvements, often adding garnishes that only diminish the purity of the original dish. Heres our recipe, roughly based on one by Marcella Hazan:
Ingredients
- 1/2 pound guanciale (or pancetta, if guanciale cant be found)
- 2 Tablespoons olive oil
- 1 Tablespoon butter
- 3 cloves garlic, peeled an crushed
- 1/4 Cup dry white wine
(such as Orvieto or Est! Est! Est!) - 2 Tablespoons salt
- 8 egg yolks (or 3 whole eggs)
- 3/4 Cup pecorino romano, freshly grated
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, coarsely ground
Method
- Sauté garlic in butter and oil until golden, then discard garlic.
- Slice guanciale into small strips, one and a half inches long, a quarter inch wide, and an eighth of an inch thick. Sauté guanciale in garlic-scented fat until browned, Add wine and boil for a couple of minutes, scraping any browned bits from bottom of pan. Set pan aside to cool.
- Cook spaghetti in at least a gallon of rapidly boiling salted water until just tender, but still firm.
- In large serving bowl, beat egg yolks (or whole eggs), cheese and pepper.
- Reheat guanciale. Toss drained pasta in egg mixture to coat evenly, pour guanciale on top, toss again and serve immediately.
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