I have a version of carbonara I like to use when I need to keep the calorie- or egg-count low for this classic Italian pasta dish, but sometimes I need to bust out the real deal. The recipe often comes up for fervent debate, but I think most can agree that pancetta, eggs, cream and parmesan play a part in there somewhere. I love the sweet pungency of garlic, so I also chuck a clove in there for fragrance. For me it’s best when the pasta is really al dente, the sauce slick with no lumpy egg bits, big punches of salty pancetta, with a tiny tingle of black pepper at the end.
Tagliatelle carbonara (serves 2):
4 tagliatelle nests
100g pancetta, diced
1 garlic clove, peeled but whole
50ml single cream
2 egg yolks
Large handful of parmesan
Beat the egg yolks, cream and parmesan together with plenty of black pepper and set aside.
Boil the tagliatelle until al dente. While you do this fry the pancetta and garlic together in a little oil until the meat starts to crisp. Discard the garlic at this point.
Ladle a big splash of the pasta liquor into the pan with the pancetta, drain the pasta off and add this into the same pan.
Turn the heat off, and working very quickly add the sauce mixture into the pan. Shake the pan vigorously and beat with a wooden spoon to make the sauce stick to the pasta. Removing the pan from the heat, and the vigorous motion will stop the egg from scrambling. After about 45 seconds check for seasoning, then serve immediately.
I apologise for that photo, it makes it look really rough. It wasn’t though, honest!
I was driving home on Sunday and was hit by a sudden wave of pasta-longing: I wanted carbonara. I haven’t had any in ages. So that was Monday’s dinner sorted. One small catch though; with my wife about 8 months pregnant barely-cooked egg didn’t seem like the smartest of moves therefore some invention was required. As Dad-Baker pointed out, “If you can make a pasta sauce Look like a Carbonara, Taste like a Carbonara and Smell like a Carbonara, then surely it Must be a Carbonara – even if there are no eggs in it. “ How to change it then?
After some research it seemed like cream cheese was the way to go, not only was it skipping eggs but came with the bonus of avoiding mega fattening cream too. Also added peas as a passing nod to a rounded meal. Mushrooms would also be welcome here for a more alfredo style. The result was very satisfying, definitely ticking all the right carbonara boxes: creamy, cheesy, silky. Ready in no time at all to boot.
Not quite carbonara (serves 2):
5 tagliatelle nests
1 tablespoon garlic oil*
75g pancetta
175g light cream cheese
Grated parmesan, to taste
handful frozen peas
Cook the tagliatelle according to packet instructions. (Give them plenty of space to expand!)
Meanwhile, fry the pancetta in the garlic oil until browned all over.
Add your cream cheese, mashing it up a bit to break it down.
It probably won’t have formed a sauce so ladle out a tablespoonful at a time of your pasta water to thin it until it’s a smooth creamy consistency. Add grated parmesan and season until you’re happy with it.
Add the peas, simmer for a minute more, then toss with the cooked pasta to combine.
*I have a bottle in my cupboard of garlic oil I’ve made – just a few cloves of garlic left in a bottle of fairly-good olive oil. Well worth it – I used up a Christmas gift of oil for this purpose!
Lasagne recipes are like admitting you’re Spartacus. “I’m the definitive lasagne recipe!” “I’m the definitive lasagne recipe!” To that end, I’m not even sure I’ve cooked it exactly the same way twice. It’s one of those things I’ve been cooking forever and therefore patch the method from time to time. Today was no different.
I went bechamel rather than cheese sauce, and used beef stock over a stock cube (a standard step-skipper in my mince recipes). I also tried to overcome my carnivorous lust of piling everything into one layer, and instead went down the traditional route of many layers of pasta.
A word on the bechamel here: I find it’s always unfairly pasted as a difficult thing to do, but it really isn’t. Melt butter, add flour and allow to cook out a little, until it’s the dullest beige. Add milk slowly, allowing it to absorb each time (much like risotto). Keep going until it reaches the desired consistency. If things look awful, turn up the heat and whisk like mad. At this point it’s ready to take on all the flavours that you want. In this case, grated nutmeg, a smear of English mustard, black pepper and smoked sea salt. I also had some mascarpone left over in the fridge so I doled that out into it to lend a slightly tart, creamy edge.
There’s so mush to adore about lasagne (I suppose this is technially lasagne al forno, but this is the dish all English people picture when you say ‘lasagne’): tender yet chewy pasta, engorged with flavours from above and below, sweet and savoury meaty sauce, creamy and slick white sauce, and crunchy and tangy cheese crust.
Below I’ve detailed what I did this time, though it will be different next time… and the time after that… and the time after that… I’ve yet to try Carmela Soprano’s one, with an additional layer of basil leaves… yum.
Lasagne:
For the beef ragu:
450g beef mince
1 onion, diced
2 cloves garlic
2 tins/cartons chopped tomatoes
500ml beef stock
250ml red wine (pinot noir in this case)
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon dried basil
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
For the bechamel:
75g butter
Plain flour
Milk
2 tablespoons mascarpone
Nutmeg
Smoked sea salt
Black pepper
1/2 teaspoon English mustard
For the final dish:
12 dried lasagne sheets
Grated parmesan
Grated cheddar
In a large casserole pan, fry the onion and garlic on a low heat until soft and translucent, about ten minutes.
Turn the heat up, add the mince and fry until browned.
Add the stock and bring to the boil, then add the tomatoes.
Lower the heat, add the other ingredients and leave to simmer while you prepare the bechamel. Pre-heat the oven to 180C.
In another pan, melt the butter. Add enough flour until you get a chalky, plasticiney consistency. Continue pushing this round the pan until you get a pale nut colour. (this calms the floury taste down)
Gradually add milk until it is absorbed. Add the bay at this point too.
Keep adding milk until it reaches a custardy texture.
Add the other bechamel ingredients and continue to stir.
Now take a large ceramic oven dish and start to layer the ingredients. I went for: pasta, mince, white sauce, pasta, mince, pasta, white sauce.
Top with cheese, and decorate with tomato slices and basil leaves. Put in the oven.
Cook until bubbling on top.
For best results, allow to sit for a couple of minutes before serving. The white sauce and cheese will set slightly, and making cutting through it much easier.
Why do porcini mushrooms stink so bad while they are marinating in hot water? It’s like cat food!
That said, many dishes would be all the poorer without their meaty, chewy flavour. I’ve combined them here with chestnut mushrooms, chicken breast pieces, and surrounded it all with rich, sweet marsala-infused chicken stock and just a touch of cream. It was very tasty, but a little thin. If I did it again (and I will) I’d add a touch of flour to help thicken it up, and some finely chopped curly parsley for a fresh, green edge.
Porcini marsala conchiglie:
300g pasta (penne or conchiglie, anything that can catch some sauce)
1 pack dried porcini mushrooms
200g chestnut mushrooms, sliced
250g diced chicken breast
300ml chicken stock
100ml marsala
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 sprig rosemary, leaves picked and finely chopped
2 tablespoons cream
shaved parmesan to serve
Pour boiling water on the porcini for 15 mins. Drain and rinse of grit, then finely chop two thirds of them.
Brown chicken pieces in a hot oiled pan and put to one side.
Cook the pasta according to the packet instructions.
Add the rosemary and garlic to the pan and fry for one minute.
Add the chestnut and porcini mushrooms (sliced and whole) to the pan and fry for a further 5 minutes. Season.
Add the marsala and allow to bubble until the taint of alcohol evaporates. Add the chicken stock and allow to simmer until reduced by half.
