Martha Stewart Pasta Carbonara
Leave a Comment on I Tried Martha Stewart’s Pasta Carbonara, and It Wasn’t About the Pasta
The water boiled before I meant it to.
I hadn’t planned dinner. Not really. But I had bacon. And eggs. And a memory I couldn’t shake.
I used to make this when Mae was still in high school—when she’d come home mad about something and I’d throw noodles in the pot like it solved things. It didn’t. But the sauce stuck to everything back then. It still does.
Her Highness calls it Pasta Carbonara.
I call it the thing I make when I want to feel like I still know how to comfort someone. Even if it’s just myself.
What the Original Looked Like
Martha’s version is strict but forgiving.
She gives you pancetta or guanciale—or even bacon, if you’re feeling loose. A whole egg plus three yolks, heavy cream (though she knows that’s not how the Romans do it), and more Parm than you think you need.
She says to save the pasta water. She’s right.
She says to take the pan off the heat before you add the eggs. She’s right again.
The sauce is meant to be creamy but not clingy. Glossy. Rich. Like an apology that still leaves room for pride.
She makes it look easy. But then again, she always does.
What I Did Differently
I used bacon. Because it was already open.
Skipped the cream. Not on purpose—I just didn’t have any and didn’t want to go out in the rain.
My cheese was the end of a wedge I found wrapped in wax paper in the back of the fridge. Still sharp. Still enough.
And I didn’t measure the pasta water. Just guessed. Like I used to.
I poured everything into the dented Dutch oven. The same one from the night I dropped it during the fight. It’s never sat quite right on the burner since. But it cooks fine.
The Way It Happened in My Kitchen
I forgot to salt the water at first. Remembered right as the spaghetti was softening—so I dumped in a fistful like it mattered.
The bacon popped, loud. Smelled like Sundays I didn’t know I missed.
I whisked the eggs and cheese with a fork because I couldn’t find the whisk.
Mae texted while I was stirring—asked if I still made the “yellow pasta.” I didn’t answer right away.
I turned the heat off before the egg went in. Stirred fast. Not fast enough. A few bits cooked too hard. But most of it…
clung.
The bacon went back in at the end. Like punctuation.
A Few Things I Learned While It Cooked
Don’t panic if the yolks start to catch. Just keep stirring.
It smells like comfort even when it looks messy.
Old cheese works.
Leftover bacon tastes like someone remembered you.
What I Did With the Extras
Ate the first bowl standing. Let the rest sit cold on the stove.
Mae came by later, took a bite without asking. Said it tasted the same.
I didn’t ask what she meant.
Would I Make It Again?
Yeah. On a night like that. When it’s raining and the fridge feels like a mirror.
That’s As Much As I Remember
It didn’t come out perfect. But it fed something.
The pan’s still in the sink. I’ll wash it tomorrow. Or not.
This reminded me of the mushroom pasta I made late one night when the heat was out. different sauce. same weight.
FAQs
yes. it’s fine. it won’t be traditional, but it’ll still feel right. especially if you cook it slow and let it crisp.
martha says yes. the italians say no. i didn’t have it. still tasted like memory.
use what you’ve got. sharp cheese helps. something salty. something aged.
take it off the heat. stir like you mean it. trust that it’ll thicken. and if it doesn’t—eat it anyway.
yes. add a splash of water or milk. low heat. stir slow. it’ll come back to life. sort of.
Check out More Recipes:
- Martha Stewart’s Chocolate Whoopie Pies
- Martha Stewart’S String Bean Casserole
- Martha Stewart’s Mac and Cheese
Martha Stewart Pasta Carbonara
Description
Creamy, clingy, and just complicated enough to feel like someone you used to be.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Boil the pasta water forget the salt. remember it. throw in a generous handful like you’re trying to undo something.
- Fry the bacon slice it into thick strips, cook in olive oil until the edges curl and the smell fills the corners of the kitchen you haven’t cleaned.
- Whisk the eggs and cheese one whole egg, three yolks, grated cheese—mix until it looks like late afternoon light.
- Scoop the pasta water at least a cup. maybe more. don’t measure. trust yourself.
- Cook the pasta until it’s just shy of done. a little bite left. like it’s holding on.
- Kill the heat in the bacon pan, add a splash of the pasta water. let it hiss, then settle.
- Toss the pasta into the pan let it find the bacon. let it remember.
- Pour the egg mixture slowly stir like you’re afraid of breaking it.
- Keep stirring it’ll look wrong before it looks right.
- Add more pasta water if needed the sauce should cling, not choke.
- Stir the bacon back in let it finish what it started.
- Crack pepper like punctuation. like a memory coming back.
- Taste. pause taste again.
- Eat warm from the pot. from the plate. from your past, if you need to.
- Even cold it tells the truth.