A Paternal Pasta

After my parents divorced when I was 9, I lived with my mother and spent weekends and summers with my father. During those visits, Dad liked to play mad scientist, commandeering the kitchen as his laboratory. He doctored meatloaf and hamburgers with eggs, onions, Worcestershire sauce, you name it, but I remember nothing as fondly as his spaghetti alla carbonara, a dish he made so often that it became his signature meal. My stepmother and I nicknamed it “carbon.” Eventually all Dad would have to say was “car,” and we knew what was for dinner that night. I can still picture him meticulously chopping, sauteing and grating the ingredients, then carefully placing each one in its separate bowl. Spaghetti alla carbonara--basically, pasta with bacon and eggs--is about as rustic as recipes get, but when my father prepared it, an enormous amount of precision and pride went into making it taste just right.

For 25 years, he tried to perfect the dish, convinced that each new modification would be better than the last. Just before we’d take a bite, he’d insist: “It just wasn’t right last time.” And as we cleaned our plates, he’d pronounce: “But it still didn’t taste like the carbonara I had in Italy.” One time it contained a yellow onion sauteed slowly in the bacon fat. Later, he switched to a red onion quickly sauteed so that it stayed crisp. Over the years, he added fontina, experimented with cream, substituted salt pork. And on and on until he finally realized that the simpler the recipe, the better the result. He also figured out that the type of bacon and cheese he used made all the difference. That meant only Italian pancetta and Parmigiano-Reggiano would do, striking the ideal balance between salty and sweet.

I was so enamored of Dad’s carbonara--in all of its incarnations--that I was sure anyone else who ate it would be, too. In the 1970s, I was proved right. My father prepared the dish at a friend’s dinner party for two of America’s biggest literary luminaries, Tennessee Williams and Truman Capote. Jacqueline Onassis, then a book editor, was also on the guest list but didn’t show. By all accounts, it was Jackie O’s loss because everyone raved about the dish. I wasn’t there, of course, but I like to think that Capote, a notoriously fastidious sort, considered this dinner even better than breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Today, spaghetti alla carbonara is nearly as popular as fettuccine Alfredo or pesto sauce, yet no one seems to know its exact origin. Some speculate that it dates back to the Carbonari, a group formed by Italian patriots in the early 19th century. Others say it was invented during World War II, when American soldiers in Rome gave rations of eggs and bacon to their Italian lovers, who then whipped up the pasta for them. One theory has it that the name is derived from carbone, or coal, a reference to the final sprinkling of freshly cracked black pepper over the top.

Regardless of how it came to be, spaghetti alla carbonara, at least the variation I now prepare for my own dinner parties, is always rich and delicious. The recipe here is the closest I’ve come to duplicating Dad’s finest moments. Better still, if I prep my ingredients beforehand, it takes no more than 10 minutes to cook and bring to the table. Friends who have had it countless times are still surprised by how satisfying it is. And in the morning, if there are any leftovers, which is unlikely unless I make extra, it’s perfect reheated for--you guessed it--breakfast. Not bad for a “carbon” copy.

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Spaghetti Alla Carbonara

Adapted from Giuliano Hazan’s “The Classic Pasta Cookbook” (Dorling Kindersley)

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Serves 4 to 6

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2 tablespoons butter

3 tablespoons olive oil

1/3 pound Italian pancetta, cut into thin strips

3 slices Canadian bacon, roughly chopped

1 cup white wine

1 tablespoon salt

1 pound dried spaghetti

4 egg yolks

1/4 cup Parmigiano-Reggiano, freshly grated

1 tablespoon salt

1/2 teaspoon pepper

2 tablespoons Italian parsley, finely chopped

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Heat butter and 2 tablespoons olive oil in skillet over medium heat. When butter melts, add pancetta and Canadian bacon. Cook until pancetta is browned but not crisp. Add white wine. Cook until wine reduces by half. Set aside.

Cook spaghetti with remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil in plenty of salted boiling water until al dente.

Meanwhile, beat egg yolks with 2 tablespoons Parmigiano-Reggiano, salt and pepper in large bowl.

Drain spaghetti when cooked and immediately pour over egg-cheese mixture. Add pancetta-Canadian bacon mixture. Toss, making sure to coat spaghetti evenly.

Add remaining 2 tablespoons Parmigiano-Reggiano and Italian parsley. Toss again and serve.

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Food stylist: Christine Anthony-Masterson