Featured Vibes

• I

  The Late-Night Carbonara

  No cream. No shortcuts. Just eggs, guanciale, and the kind of patience that arrives after midnight.

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  It was maybe one in the morning the first time I made this properly — which is, I've since decided, exactly when carbonara wants to be made. There's something about the low stakes of a late kitchen that keeps you from overthinking it. No cream. That's the rule and the whole philosophy compressed into two words.

  Ingredients — serves 2

  • 200 g spaghetti or rigatoni
  • 120 g guanciale (or pancetta if you must)
  • 3 large egg yolks + 1 whole egg
  • 60 g Pecorino Romano, finely grated
  • 30 g Parmigiano Reggiano, finely grated
  • Black pepper, freshly and aggressively cracked
  • Salt, for the pasta water

  How to do it

  1. Get a large pot of water on — salt it well once it boils. Drop the pasta in and cook until two minutes before the packet says.
  2. While that's going, cut the guanciale into thick lardons and render them in a cold pan over medium-low heat. You want the fat to run slowly, the edges to crisp without burning. When it's done, take the pan off the heat entirely.
  3. Whisk the yolks, whole egg, most of the cheese, and a very generous amount of black pepper together in a bowl. It should look like a thick, pale custard.
  4. Reserve a full cup of pasta water before you drain. Add the drained pasta straight into the guanciale pan — still off the heat.
  5. Pour the egg mixture over. Toss quickly, adding pasta water a splash at a time until the sauce coats every strand and flows like silk. This takes maybe ninety seconds of confident movement.
  6. Plate immediately. Finish with the remaining cheese and more pepper.

  Cook's note: The pan must be off the heat when the eggs go in. Not low heat. Off. If you scramble the eggs even slightly, the sauce breaks and there's no coming back from it. Trust the residual heat and the pasta water to do the work.

• II

  Green and Good

  Pesto the way it should be — a little rough, a little too much garlic, made for eating immediately while standing at the counter.

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  Green is a mood as much as it is a color. Both of these pestos live in that mood — one richer and more indulgent, the other almost scandalously simple. I make the creamy version in winter when I want something that feels like a hug, and the summer one in August when the basil on the windowsill is about to bolt.

  

  Creamy Pesto — serves 2

  Ingredients

  • 200 g trofie or fusilli
  • Large bunch of fresh basil (about 50 g leaves)
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 30 g pine nuts, lightly toasted
  • 50 g Parmigiano Reggiano, grated
  • 80 ml good olive oil
  • 3 tbsp heavy cream
  • Salt and white pepper

  Method

  1. Blitz basil, garlic, pine nuts, and half the cheese in a food processor until roughly combined. Stream in the olive oil with the motor running.
  2. Cook pasta until al dente. Reserve half a cup of pasta water.
  3. Warm the cream very gently in a wide pan — just until it shimmers. Add the pesto and stir to combine off the heat.
  4. Toss in the drained pasta, adding pasta water to loosen. Finish with remaining cheese.

  Cook's note: The cream mellows the garlic and keeps the color brighter than you'd expect. Don't let it boil — just warm enough to marry everything together.

  

  Light Summer Pesto — serves 2

  Ingredients

  • 200 g linguine or spaghetti
  • Large bunch of fresh basil
  • 1 small clove garlic
  • 20 g pine nuts or walnuts
  • 40 g Parmigiano Reggiano, grated
  • 90 ml extra-virgin olive oil
  • Juice of half a lemon
  • Flaky salt
  • Optional: a handful of cherry tomatoes, halved

  Method

  1. Make the pesto by hand if you can — pound the basil, garlic, and a pinch of salt in a mortar until you have a rough paste. Work in the nuts, then the cheese, then the oil in a slow drizzle.
  2. Cook the pasta, drain, reserving water. Let it cool for thirty seconds — this pesto doesn't want heat.
  3. Toss the pasta with the pesto, a squeeze of lemon, and as much pasta water as you need. Scatter over the tomatoes if using.

  Cook's note: Pound it, don't blitz it. The mortar keeps the oil from emulsifying too tightly and you get this loose, fresh, slightly uneven thing that tastes entirely alive.

• III

  Sunday Red Sauce

  The one you cook low and slow when you're not really in a hurry. A bottle of wine open before noon is encouraged.

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  Spaghetti Pomodoro is the pasta I cook when I want to prove a point — that four ingredients, treated with actual attention, can be more satisfying than anything complicated. The tomatoes need to be good. Everything else is patience and restraint.

  Ingredients — serves 4

  • 400 g spaghetti
  • 800 g whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes (one large tin)
  • 4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
  • 6 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, plus more to finish
  • Large handful of fresh basil
  • Salt and red chili flakes

  Method

  1. Warm the olive oil in a wide, heavy pan over medium-low heat. Add the garlic and let it turn pale gold — maybe four minutes. Don't let it brown. Add a pinch of chili if you like.
  2. Crush the tomatoes in with your hand as you add them. Add a good pinch of salt and drop in half the basil. Turn the heat to low.
  3. Let it cook, uncovered, for 25 to 35 minutes. Stir occasionally. You're looking for a sauce that's thickened and deeply red, where the oil has started to rise at the edges.
  4. Cook the spaghetti in well-salted boiling water until two minutes shy of done. Reserve a cup of water, then transfer the pasta straight into the sauce.
  5. Toss over medium heat for the remaining two minutes, adding pasta water as needed until the sauce clings. Turn off the heat, add the remaining basil, and drizzle with more olive oil.

  Cook's note: The temptation is to rush the sauce. Don't. Those extra ten minutes of low simmering are what separates something that tastes like tinned tomatoes from something that tastes like August in Sicily.