Citizens.

Put down the spoon.

And listen.

We are making Carbonara.

Real Carbonara.

First. The Law.

If I see a carton of cream... I will have you arrested.

Cream is a crutch.

Cream is for cowards who cannot manage heat.

We do not use it. Ever.

We use Guanciale.

Cured pork cheek.

Not bacon. Not ham.

Cheek.

Render it down until the fat is clear... and the meat is crisp.

This fat... is the foundation of the Empire.

The Cheese.

Pecorino Romano.

Sheep's milk. Sharp. Salty.

Parmesan is acceptable... but Pecorino is authentic.

Grate it fine. Like snow.

Mix it with the yolks.

Just the yolks. Maybe one whole egg for luck.

Now. The Black Pepper.

Grind it fresh.

Coarse.

We want the heat. We want the bite.

It is called Carbonara because it should look like coal dust.

The Technique.

This is where you fail.

Boil the pasta. Spaghetti or Rigatoni.

Al Dente. Firm to the tooth.

Reserve a mug of the starchy water. Liquid gold.

Now. The Emulsion.

Pan off the heat.

I repeat. Off. The. Heat.

Toss the pasta in the pork fat.

Pour in the egg and cheese mixture.

Add a splash of the pasta water.

And toss.

Toss like your life depends on it.

The residual heat cooks the egg.

It creates a sauce... creamy... without cream.

If you stop moving... you make scrambled eggs.

Do not make scrambled eggs.

The Service.

It waits for no man.

Plate it immediately.

A mountain of gold.

Speckled with black.

Do not use a spoon to eat it.

That is for children.

Use your fork.

Twirl against the plate.

A tight nest.

Eat.

Rich. Salty. Peppery.

Rome... on a fork.

Remember.

No cream.

No garlic.

No parsley.

Just technique.

Carry on.