Authentic spaghetti carbonara

OK, it’s tagliatelle, home-made from excess sourdough starter. I generally don’t have spaghetti in the house as it’s far from my favourite pasta shape. I’m just back from a trip to northern Italy and on our last evening I ventured to order spaghetti carbonara. It was divine. We make a version of it quite often at home (never order it in a restaurant in France. You will get a pile of lukewarm pasta slathered in cream and piled with lardons and cheese, plus a raw egg yolk in half an eggshell perched on top).

Anyway. This experience prompted me to stop in at a deli the next day and buy some guanciale (dry-cured pork cheek), which according to purists is the only meat you should use for carbonara. Maybe pancetta at a pinch, certainly not bacon. I can now confirm this is true, having made it for lunch today. Admittedly I had forgotten to buy any pecorino cheese, so I used Parmesan. If you can get hold of pecorino, do. The restaurant used a soft fresh pecorino grated over the top; I’m not sure if this is truly authentic or a northern Italy quirk.

Anyway. This is now my definitive recipe, though we’re unlikely to do it this way every time. Dieters look away now: guanciale is very fatty, at least 50% fat I reckon. You cook it slowly in its own fat in a frying pan till crispy, ending up with a lake of rendered fat. Then you tip the cooked pasta into the frying pan and stir it around thoroughly to make sure that pasta picks up every last drop of porky, cholesterol-laden fat. It tastes amazing and is what helps the sauce to cohere and coat the pasta properly. It’s completely different from making it with a lesser pork product. As for Jamie Oliver with his “carbonara” with sausages in it, he can get in the bin.

For 2 people:
about 150 g of long pasta of your choice
2 large egg yolks
1 large whole egg
Black pepper
about 60 g of guanciale or pancetta, cut into thick lardons
about 50 g of pecorino or Parmesan, freshly grated

Put the water on to boil for the pasta, and at the same time start cooking the guanciale in a frying pan over moderate heat, stirring occasionally. It needs to cook slowly to render the fat and crisp up the pieces without burning. In a warmed bowl large enough to take all the pasta, beat the egg and egg yolks thoroughly with most of the grated cheese. Season well with coarsely ground black pepper. Have warm bowls ready to serve the pasta too.

When the water boils, add salt (not too much) and the pasta and cook till al dente (or however you like it). Keep an eye on the guanciale and turn the heat off if it’s done. Once the pasta is cooked, use a ladle to scoop out a cupful of cooking water into a cup. Add about half of it to the egg mixture, whisking all the time. Set the rest of the water aside in case you need it. Drain the pasta and tip it into the hot pan with the guanciale. Use two forks to toss it, thoroughly coating it in the fat. Then tip everything from the pan into the bowl, and use the handle of a wooden spoon or tongs to whirl the pasta around in the sauce. It should magically thicken and coat the pasta. If you think it’s too thick you can add a small amount of reserved pasta water. There shouldn’t be a pool of sauce in the bottom of the bowl. All this happens very quickly — it takes longer to describe than to do. Dish up into warm bowls, sprinkle with the remaining cheese, and serve.