Just Like David Sedaris

Between book groups and brunches and birthdays, I got a lot of cooking done this weekend, but not enough writing. As a result, what follows is what one might call an "encore performance" of a piece I posted on Facebook a year ago this week. You know, just like when David Sedaris publishes an essay in the New Yorker and then there it is again in his next book. But you're supposed to love it just as much the second time around.

In the year since I wrote Spaghetti Carbonara, some things are the same in my life and in the world — I just received my new Saveur, and my retirement fund statement arrived on Friday. I opened the envelope for the first time in a year, and within lay a difference — the number had actually gone up! By a lot! But it's not money I can actually spend and peasant food is just as delicious coming out of a recession as going in, so keep reading for a flashback to January 15, 2009, and a recipe for Spaghetti Carbonara. (I seem to be establishing a reputation for heavy, fattening, winter foods, but I'm flying to LA this weekend and will try to return with some warmth and something lighter to eat.)


Spaghetti Carbonara
As the T emerged from the tunnel on my way home earlier this week, a woman sitting two people down from me started talking on her cell. Annoying, I know. Although I'm sure we've all done it. Clearly she was talking to her other adult at home (a personal pet peeve of mine as I have none) and making plans for dinner. Having procured a seat at Kenmore, I was happily flipping through the latest issue of Saveur and not really paying attention, but she was talking so loudly that I couldn't help but overhear something alarming:

"Well, there's some fish that should be cooked."

FISH? That should be cooked??

You couldn’t pay me to eat it.

When did she buy this fish? The day was Tuesday. It couldn't possibly be last Friday, could it? Although Friday is a traditional fish day. Everything I've read has told me never to purchase fish on a Monday. Maybe she bought it over the weekend. I immediately put down my magazine to contemplate the ramifications of eating fish that "should be cooked."


The way I obsess about these things, you would think I got sick from food on a regular basis, but I'm not even sure that's what I'm worried about. I've only had food poisoning once in my life, in December 1988. It was the week after Christmas, and, more importantly, the evening of my first day of work at National Geographic Television. Some friends of mine were in town for the holiday and on our first (and subsequently my only) night out, we went to the Szechwan-Hunan Cottage on the Upper East Side where they poured free watered-down wine, so, being 22, you’d drink like 15 glasses and think that you could hold your liquor. I ate something in lobster sauce – I don’t remember what exactly – for the first and last time. I threw up all night and into the next morning. As I struggled to get to my second day at National Geographic, I vomited on the train at 7th Avenue, on the platform at Bergen Street, and over the tracks at Atlantic Avenue. I had only made it two stops from home.

I had to call in sick. On my second day of work. It was humiliating and absurd, but they kept me on, and I made up for it over the next seven years.

But, really, that was the only time I had food poisoning. Except for the Lake Winnipesaukee hot dog incident in 1990, but I had eaten seven, so it was to be expected.

I'm not compulsive about a lot of things. But I am about food, specifically its age. I don't ever walk into my mother's house for dinner without getting a complete inventory about what was purchased when. But, amazing cook that she is, I don't think most people would eat from the back of her fridge. It’s always a risk. She has no guidelines and will keep and eat everything until it’s gone. In my own refrigerator, there are rules. If the expiration date on the orange juice is a week away, I throw it out. I figure if it’s that close, it’s already started to go bad. If I bought a new package of romaine hearts and the last package isn’t quite finished, I throw it out anyway. You can never be too sure. If the salsa has been open more than a week – gone. My world changed considerably when they started stamping the date on each individual egg, and don’t even get me started on milk. But, on a regular basis I make real Caesar salad dressing for guests. And after I tell my daughter she’ll die if she licks the spoon, I put it into my mouth as soon as she leaves the room.


Tonight I’m making spaghetti carbonara. If you make it right, the eggs don’t really cook, they just glaze the noodles making them shiny and slippery and able to absorb the cheese. I read somewhere that Ruth Reichl makes this dish when her son needs comfort food. I tend to eat it when I myself need comforting. Tonight I made it because my retirement fund statement came and it was thousands and thousands of dollars less than it used to be, and I happened to have all of the ingredients in the house. I thought I’d pretend I was in the Great Depression. I’m okay living through the Depression or the current recession as long as I get to play the part of Italian peasant. Spaghetti, eggs, wine, onions, Romano – a perfect combination for a perfect price. And everything was purchased within the week.

Pasta Carbonara
Adapted from The Gourmet Cookbook

5 ounces pancetta or Niman Ranch Applewood Uncured Bacon
1 onion, chopped
1/4 c. dry white wine
1 lb thin spaghetti
3 lrg. eggs
1 c. freshly grated pecorino Romano
1/4 tsp. salt
freshly ground black pepper

Cook bacon/pancetta in a heavy skillet over moderate heat until it begins to render its fat, 1 - 2 minutes. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden, abt 10 minutes. Add wine and boil until reduced by half. Meanwhile, cook spaghetti until al dente. Whisk together eggs, cheeses, salt, and pepper in a small bowl. Drain spaghetti, add to onion mixture, and toss over moderate heat until coated. Remove from heat and add egg mixture, tossing to combine. Serve immediately. [Note that eggs are not fully cooked, so you could potentially give or get salmonella poisoning. Proceed at your own risk.]