Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Pasta carbonara

Summer. Cold brews under patio umbrellas, rockin' shades, denim cutoffs, and inevitable sunburns, no matter how much sunscreen you put on. Bicycle races down pothole-laden roads, beach visits culminating in sand found where the sun don't shine, frisbees that graze fingertips as they dance of reach, and that feeling of grass blades between your toes, all things that we wanted for our summer.

Including this ultra-magnetic, super cool, fun and awesome food blog!!

One part eager university students, one part unintentional (and two parts intentional) puns, with a dash of healthy skepticism and two pinches of pretentious food snobbery, we bring you a summer food blog in which we dazzle and amaze with our culinary creations. Or just take shitty phone pictures of everything that at one point grew or squawked. (N: didn’t really get this, it’s supposedly a metaphor or things that are alive.. of which none of the things we are cooking are.)

(H: Addendum - I’ll have you know NICKI, that the peas, onions, garlic, wheat from the pasta, and turkey all grew or squawked.)

Pasta carbonara alla turkey sausage and pesto
  • as much cheese as you can stomach, parobably best to use parmesan
  • an egg per portion of pasta
  • a dime (or quarter?)’s circumference of pasta per portion (obviously this only applies to noodles, but why would you make carbonara with any other kind?)
  • 2-5 cloves of garlic
  • 3 good sized shallots (or one small onion, or whatever you want, jeez)
  • two turkey sausages (is what we used, you should use bacon, mmm)
  • pesto to taste

Finely dice garlic and shallots and throw into a pretty hot pan with some equally hot olive oil. Stir that around until it smells like an Italian woman’s kitchen during preparations for a post-siesta feast (thanks Nicki for that one).

In the same pan, cook your meat of choice until it’s safe to consume alone (ground meat should be cooked well done and bacon can be eaten straight out of the pack). You can probably put the pesto in now or later, whatever.

At the same-ish time, bring a pot of salted water to a rolling boil.

Grate your parmesan cheese in a large bowl and reserve some for the plate if you want to be pretentious like us. Crack your eggs into the bowl and whisk vigorously until there are no clumps.

Take the pan of garlic, shallots, and meat off the heat and let it cool a bit so your eggs don’t congeal (this is a pretentious food snob term for cooking the eggs too fast, another is to scramble, thanks Henry). Now put the pasta in that shit so it absorbs all that glorious garlicky goodness.

Using tongs or a wooden spoon, put in the egg-cheese mixture and mix well. The eggs will form a sort of custard (ergo, be careful not to have the heat too high or else you’ll have scrambled eggs). If it’s still really liquidy, put the burner on low and stir it carefully until it thickens a bit. Or you can take it completely off the heat and let it cool down. It’s good that way too.

We lacked veggies so we made a bed of sweet peas and that was pretty cool.

And, just in case you didn’t realize already, we’re starving university students so this was the best Tuesday-night-last-minute-dinner we could throw together with extremely minimal ingredients. We dun good, doncha think?

All cooking was made so that much more enjoyable with Henry’s extremely sharp, Japanese steel Shun knife. Go get one. It’s amazing.