Copycat Olive Garden Chicken and Shrimp Carbonara

Luc had a school project this week — "Family Heritage" for his social studies class — and I don't think his teacher knew what she was getting into when she assigned it to a Cajun kid. Most of the fifth graders are doing poster boards. Luc came to me and said, "Papa, I want to tell the real story," and I said, "Cher, the real story takes longer than a poster board," and he said, "Then I'll need more poster boards." He's my son, all right.

We spent three evenings at the kitchen table — Luc with his markers and glue sticks, me with a beer and the family stories that Joey told me and Joey's mama told him and her mama told her. The Acadian expulsion from Nova Scotia in 1755. The British burning villages, scattering families, putting people on boats to God knows where. The Boudreaux line — Mama's family — landing in Louisiana in the 1760s after years of wandering. The Beaumonts arriving later, in the 1790s, coming down from somewhere in the Maritimes through a series of moves that nobody documented because they were too busy surviving to keep records. Two hundred and sixty years of survival, cher. That's what the poster board says.

I taught Luc some Cajun French while we worked. He knows the basics — "Comment ça va?" and "Merci beaucoup" and "Laissez les bons temps rouler" — but I wanted him to hear the deeper stuff, the words that only exist in our French, the ones you can't find in a Parisian textbook. Words like "envaler" — to swallow, but also to endure. "Espérer" — to wait, but also to hope. The French we speak isn't broken. It's just been through a lot, like us.

Colette watched from the couch and said she wanted to do her heritage project too, even though she's only in second grade and doesn't have one assigned. Danielle helped her draw a family tree that went back four generations, which is as far as Danielle's family — the Thibodauxs of Lafayette — can trace without getting into the kind of records that only exist in church basements. We're all Cajun on both sides. Our kids are so Cajun they're practically seasoning.

Rémy contributed by eating crayons and asking if we were related to alligators. He's four. We're working on it.

I made a shrimp Creole this week — not strictly Cajun, I know, and Joey's mama would spin in her grave, but Danielle likes the tomato-based version and I've learned in eleven years of marriage that sometimes you make Creole for your wife and you don't announce it on social media. It's a simple dish: trinity (onion, celery, bell pepper — the holy trinity of Louisiana cooking, for those of you who aren't from here), canned tomatoes, shrimp, served over rice. The secret is the shrimp. You don't overcook the shrimp. You pull them at the exact second they curl into a C shape — not an O, never an O, an O means you've gone too far and your shrimp are rubber and you should be ashamed. I pulled them perfect. Danielle said so. That's all the validation I need.

Mama called from Thibodaux on Sunday. She's doing well — still in the yellow cottage, still cooking every day, still walking to the mailbox and back, which she calls her exercise and which her doctor says isn't enough and which she does anyway because Marie-Claire Boudreaux Beaumont has never once in her life done what a doctor told her to do. She said the azaleas are blooming early. She said the bayou looked pretty in the morning light. She said she made a pot of red beans and rice on Monday, the way she does every Monday, the way every Cajun woman has done every Monday since the beginning of time, because Monday is wash day and red beans cook slow while you do the laundry. Some traditions don't need a poster board. They just need a Monday.

After three evenings of family history and Cajun French lessons and Rémy eating crayons, I wasn’t about to let the shrimp be the thing that fell apart — so when I needed a dish that put the shrimp front and center and still felt like something the whole table would celebrate, this chicken and shrimp carbonara was exactly where I landed. The sauce is rich enough to feel like an occasion, the shrimp pull it back toward something honest and coastal, and if you watch them carefully and pull at the C — never the O — you’ll have something Danielle will say is perfect, and that, as I mentioned, is all the validation you need.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 oz bucatini or spaghetti pasta
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-sized pieces
1/2 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined
6 slices bacon, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup chicken broth
3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
2 egg yolks
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
2 tbsp olive oil, divided
2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining. Set pasta aside.
Crisp the bacon. In a large skillet over medium heat, cook chopped bacon until crispy, about 6–8 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate, leaving about 1 tbsp drippings in the pan.
Cook the chicken. Season chicken pieces with salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Add 1 tbsp olive oil to the skillet with the bacon drippings and cook chicken over medium-high heat, 5–6 minutes, until golden and cooked through. Remove and set aside.
Cook the shrimp. Add remaining 1 tbsp olive oil to the skillet. Add shrimp in a single layer and cook 1–2 minutes per side, just until they curl into a C shape and turn pink. Do not overcook — the moment you see an O, you’ve gone too far. Remove immediately and set aside.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium-low. Add garlic to the skillet and sauté 30 seconds until fragrant. Pour in chicken broth and heavy cream, stirring to combine. Simmer 3–4 minutes until slightly thickened.
Temper the egg yolks. In a small bowl, whisk egg yolks with 1/2 cup grated Parmesan. Slowly ladle a few spoonfuls of the hot cream sauce into the egg mixture while whisking constantly, then pour the tempered mixture back into the skillet. Stir well — do not let the sauce boil from this point.
Combine everything. Add the drained pasta to the skillet and toss to coat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time if the sauce is too thick. Return chicken and bacon to the pan and toss again.
Add the shrimp last. Nestle the shrimp on top and gently fold them in just to warm through — 30 seconds max. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes.
Serve. Plate immediately, topped with remaining Parmesan, fresh parsley, and extra black pepper.

Nutrition (per serving)

Copycat Olive Garden Chicken and Shrimp Carbonara — Because Sometimes the Shrimp Steals the Show