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Skillet Pasta with Bacon and Eggs — The Warmth That Needs No Words

March approaches. A year since Paul was diagnosed. Two years since the first symptom. The anniversaries pile up like snow — each one adding weight, each one making the landscape less recognizable. Paul's voice is a whisper now. Not always — there are good hours, usually mornings, when the voice is soft but clear and the words come without too much effort. But by evening, the voice is spent, like a match that's burned to the end, and communication becomes eyes and gestures and the communication device that Paul finally agreed to try. He typed on it for the first time on Wednesday. A tablet, mounted on his wheelchair, with a keyboard that he operates with his right hand (barely — the hand trembles, the typing is slow, but the letters come). The device speaks his words in a mechanical voice — flat, American, nothing like Paul. He typed his first sentence and the machine said it aloud and Paul looked at me and said, with his own voice, whispered: "That's not me." I said, "It's your words. The voice will take getting used to." He typed: "I prefer your voice reading to me." The machine said it aloud. I said, "Then I'll read." We're in the transition. The space between voice and voicelessness, between the man who taught history with his voice and the man who will need a machine to order coffee. The space is a twilight, neither fully dark nor fully light, and we live in it. I called Anna. "He's using the device," I said. She was quiet. Then: "His voice recordings. Thank God for the recordings." Yes. Thank God. Thank Paul, for asking. Thank the phone, for capturing. Thank the voice, for being recorded while it was still a voice. I made a March dinner: raggmunk — the Swedish potato pancakes I rediscovered two years ago, in my first year of writing. Grated potato, flour, egg, fried in butter. Served with lingonberry jam and bacon. The pancakes are crispy outside, soft inside, and they don't require chewing — they melt on the tongue. Paul ate two, pureed (the crispiness lost, but the flavor preserved), and the machine said nothing because Paul doesn't use the machine for comments about food. For food, he smiles. The smile is enough. March. Year two of the diagnosis. Year three of the symptoms. Year fifty-six of Paul. Year fifty-six of Linda. Year twelve of Sven. Year eighty-eight of Mamma. Year who-knows of the lake. The numbers keep running. We keep running with them. Not fast. Not gracefully. But running.

The raggmunk were Paul’s dinner that night, but I had made extra bacon — more than the pancakes needed — and the next evening I used it here, in this skillet pasta that requires almost nothing of you and gives back more than it should. There is something about bacon crisped in a pan, about eggs pulled into silky ribbons through hot pasta, that feels like a hand on the shoulder: steady, warm, asking nothing. On the nights when the machine has spoken and the house has gone quiet, I need food that doesn’t ask me to think. This is that food.

Skillet Pasta with Bacon and Eggs

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 12 oz spaghetti or linguine
  • 6 strips thick-cut bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces
  • 1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 4 large eggs
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
  • 1/4 cup reserved pasta cooking water
  • 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
  • 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 2 tbsp fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
  • Salt, to taste

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/4 cup of pasta cooking water before draining. Drain and set aside.
  2. Crisp the bacon. In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the bacon pieces until crispy and the fat has rendered, about 6–8 minutes. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside on a paper towel–lined plate. Leave about 2 tbsp of bacon fat in the skillet.
  3. Soften the onion and garlic. In the same skillet over medium heat, add the sliced onion and cook until softened and lightly golden, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more, stirring frequently.
  4. Whisk the eggs. In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs, Parmesan, and black pepper until smooth. Set aside.
  5. Combine pasta and bacon. Add the drained pasta to the skillet with the onion and garlic. Toss to coat in the remaining fat. Add the reserved bacon back in and stir to combine. Remove the skillet from heat.
  6. Add the egg mixture. Pour the egg and Parmesan mixture over the hot pasta, tossing quickly and continuously. Add the reserved pasta water a little at a time, tossing constantly, until the eggs form a creamy, silky sauce that coats every strand. The residual heat cooks the eggs — do not return the skillet to direct heat or the eggs will scramble.
  7. Finish and serve. Season with salt to taste. Divide into bowls, top with chopped parsley, extra Parmesan, and red pepper flakes if using. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 510 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 62g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg

Linda Johansson
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 152 of Linda’s 30-year story · Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.

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