Kosher Roman carbonara

A Roman classic, this kosher version of iconic carbonara, is a traditional recipe born in the Ghetto di Roma, Rome's Jewish quarter dating back to the 16th century. Very few ingredients—but make-or-break challenges—it delivers up a delicious pasta dish every time.

Roman Holiday

I frequently pooh-pooh the notion of "authenticity" in cooking, but if anything comes close, it's the one.

I learned the recipe from the matriarch in one of those little kosher osterias in the Via del Portico d'Ottavia on the edge of Ghetto Ebraico di Roma. Naturally, she only begrudgingly parted with it. But she at least honoured the bet unwisely made by one of her clan.

I was with my partner Luc on a break to Rome. It was September and still hot, even at night. We were sitting at the tables outside. We both ordered the carbonara, something that Angie Reed and he had raved about after their little jaunt to Rome a few years earlier.

Following in my father's footsteps, I asked the waiter if I could get the recipe from the chef. He was a cocky little character who had been performing his Fellini schtick to a large party of New Yorkers at the table beside us. "You can have the recipe if you guess where I am from," he said, clearly a game he had played with patrons before.

I barely blinked. "Alexandria," I said. His smug look evaporated, replaced by disbelief. Yeah, dude, some of us do actually have some insight into the Jewish Diaspora and Rome's historic ghetto... Dear old Nona was clearly pissed with him, but she graciously shared the recipe. 

Anecdote aside, this is one of the easiest recipes, this is one of the hardest recipes. I guess Charles Dickens could make it...

Bastardised by supermarket chains and suburban cooks the world over, there are actually very few ingredients—cream is not one of them—in both the better known staple version and this variation developed by Rome's historic Jewish community. The "trick" is getting it to "cook" without ending up with scrambled eggs instead of the signature sauce.

One of the essential items you will need is a frying pan—a skillet—large and deep enough to hold the pasta for all of your diners AND the sauce.

Similarly, this dish should only ever be made with Pecorino Romano, a very specific sheep's milk cheese. No, parmesan is not a reasonable alternative. But, before you freak out, Pecorino Romano has become increasingly available in posh supermarkets (not to mention the Italian delis that have always had it) around the world in the last couple of decades.

In accordance with Jewish dietary traditions, this version uses pastrami—in lieu of the pork guanciale used in non-kosher versions—and virgin olive oil. Unlike guanciale, pastrami will exude very little fat. I'm doing it here with thinly sliced pastrami, but you can do it with more thickly sliced pastrami sliced into something more akin to lardons in shape and size if you prefer. Whether you cook it until crispy or not, is more a matter of personal taste. I think somewhere in between works best, as it did in Rome on that night. You're basically looking about 3 to 4 slices per diner, but adjust according to how much you like meat.

Most often this dish is made with spaghetti, though I prefer to cook it with a slender linguine. Again, your choice.

Recently I've cooked this dish more often than usual. It's probably because of "carbonara envy" on my low-fat, post-operative regime. So, I've cooked it for Pasta Club! and for friends Brian and Scott, less than two weeks apart. Go figure. That explains the variety in the images.

These quantities serve 2 to 3 diners, but you can easily scale it according to the guidelines in the shopping list below.

Shopping list

for the kosher Roman carbonara

• linguine or spaghetti; approx. 90 to 100g (dried) per diner

• 3 eggs (or 1 egg per diner)

• Approx. 1 cup Pecorino Romano cheese (or approx. 55g per diner); very finely grated

• 12 slices pieces of pastrami, cut into 1cm strips across the narrowest dimension

• About 14 to 16 saffron stamens

• Approx. 2 tbspns virgin olive oil

• Approx. 1 tbspn of coarsely ground black pepper

• salt and pepper to taste

for side dishes

As for side dishes, our parents brought us up to feel that we should consume visible chlorophyl with every main meal (remember it can be purple too). So, though side dishes are not always served with this dish, I usually do. I'm not going into all the details here, but commonly "fellow travellers" I often select include:

• Steamed tenderstem broccoli sprinkled with sesame seeds

• Leeks sautéd with garlic and wilted "wild spinach"

• Cavolo nero poached in white wine vinegar

• oven-braised red cabbage with apple

Cooking Method

1. In a large, fairly deep frying pan, heat the virgin olive oil on a medium heat. When hot, add the sliced pastrami and cook, gently stirring until it reaches the desired level of crispiness—or not. Remove from the heat and allow to rest

2. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil and add your pasta. Once the pasta is submerged, add half of the saffron stamens to the water

3. While the pasta is boiling, whisk the eggs using an old-fashioned manual whisk. Once they are "frothy", begin to whisk in the finely grated cheese. Add the rest of the saffron and the freshly crushed black pepper. Whisk until it forms into a thick, but fairly smooth "egg cream". NB. do not do this too far in advance of cooking your pasta; the air whipped into the eggs is important to the outcome

4. When the pasta is cooked al dente, syphon off about 1 cup of the "saffron starch water" and then drain the pasta thoroughly. You may not need to use any of the "saffron starch water", but better safe than sorry

5. If your "egg cream" seems too thick—i.e. "lumpy" or too thick, not the consistency of a good custard—add the syphoned water, a couple of tbsns at a time, and whisk in until you achieve a suitably thick "cream"

6. Return the large frying pan with the pastrami to the stove, this time a high heat. NB. if it seems a little dry, add an additional dash of extra virgin olive oil. Add your thoroughly drained pasta, preferably while it is still warm, gently stirring

7. As soon as the contents of the pan begin to sizzle, completely remove from the heat and add ALL of the egg cream at once. Fold in constantly and gently using a spatula—the challenge is to is ensure the cheese melts and the egg cooks without becoming "scrambled". Fear not: if this disaster should occur it will take place in the first minute or so (at which point you crash through the French windows and depart you dinner party...) Once you see your carbonara take shape, you can cover the pan and allow it to rest for a few minutes

8. Plate and take to table with any side dishes. It's probably stating the obvious, but this really isn't a dish served with grated Parmigiano Reggiano at table—it's pretty much cheese. Just saying... yep, I've seen it happen

Alternatives

I've often made a great pescatarian versions using smoked salmon pretty much treated as the pastrami is—though obviously not trying to get it crispy. And I've even made delicious lacto-vegetarian versions using slices of tempeh, again, treated much like the pastrami.

But, sorry vegans: eggs, a specific cheese made with sheep's milk...? You can see where this would go. So, I've never tried. I'd simply cook another dish.

Pairings

Rightly or wrongly, I think this is a dish really suited to light or mid-bodied red wines. This is not a fancy dish. It's pretty quotidian. And, frankly, if I wasn't too busy folding in that un/cooked sauce so that it didn't "scramble" to pay too much attention, I might have paid closer attention.

But the Chianti Riserva, the red from Puglia or the red from Portugal... Everyone I've cooked this dish for in the last couple of weeks got their cue exactly on the money with minimal suggestions made by SMS/DMs: red, but not too heavy.

Of course, Karel may disagree. Then my ruse to coax him out, to deliver the definitive pairing, is all too transparent. Yes, this is a dish to which I shall retrain my post-operative body. I crave it. Preferably with the relevant wine. So, bring it on, Karel!