You want spaghetti slick with egg and pecorino, studded with guanciale rendered to gold, black pepper in quantity. You toss it through the fat, then, off the heat, through the egg until the sauce clings and does not pool. No cream, no garlic, no peas — if you add those, you have made something else.
Rome made this in the middle of the last century and has been defending the ingredient list ever since. Guanciale, not pancetta; pecorino, not Parmesan; pasta water for the emulsion. The origin stories are louder than the evidence; the plate is Roman.
The only difficulty is nerve. Toss hard, off the fire, adding water until it turns creamy. Serve at once. It waits for no one.
Method
- 01
Start the guanciale in a cold pan so the fat has time to melt instead of seizing. Let it go until the pieces are gold and the fat is a little lake — that fat is your sauce, so don't you dare pour it off. Take the pan off the heat while you see to the pasta; you will come back to it.
- 02
In a bowl, beat the four yolks and the whole egg with the grated pecorino and a great deal of coarsely ground pepper — more pepper than feels polite. Work it to a thick paste; it should look like wet sand and smell sharply of cheese. This is your sauce, waiting. Keep it near the stove so it isn't refrigerator-cold when it meets the pasta.
- 03
Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil and salt it well — it should taste like the sea. Cook the spaghetti until it is just shy of al dente, a minute less than the package says, because it will finish in the pan. Before you drain, scoop out a cup of that starchy water and keep it close. You will need it in a moment, and there is no substitute.
- 04
Tip the spaghetti into the guanciale pan and toss it through that golden fat so every strand is coated. Off the heat — this is nerve, not mystery — add the egg mixture and a splash of pasta water, tossing hard until it turns creamy and clings. Add more water if it looks tight; serve at once with more pecorino and pepper, because it waits for no one.
