Zucchini (Zettuccine) Carbonara

Mamma called Tuesday morning at 10 AM, as she always does, as she has done since she had a phone of her own in 1953. She wanted to know what I was making for dinner. The question matters to her in a way that I now understand at sixty-eight in a way I did not understand at thirty. The asking is the love. The answering is the love. The conversation is the bridge across the days. We talked for nineteen minutes. Mamma is ninety. The phone calls are precious and finite. I do not waste them. Anna sent photos from Minneapolis — the kids in their school uniforms, David's new bookshelf, the dog (their dog, not mine; their dog is named Cooper, and Cooper is a Bernese mountain dog who weighs more than Anna and who is, by all accounts, the most relaxed dog in the upper Midwest). I printed three of the photos and put them on the fridge. The fridge holds the family that is not currently in the kitchen. Elsa called from Voyageurs. She had a sighting of a wolf — a single gray adult crossing a frozen bay at dawn, fifty yards from her cabin. She had a sighting of a moose two days later. She is happy in the woods. I am glad someone in this family is happy in the woods. I have always loved Lake Superior, but the deeper woods are not for me. Elsa is for the deeper woods. The match is right. I cooked Macaroni and cheese from scratch this week. Béchamel with sharp Wisconsin cheddar (no Velveeta in this kitchen), hot sauce for backbone, dijon for depth. Tossed with elbows, topped with breadcrumbs and parmesan, baked until the breadcrumbs are dark gold and the inside bubbles. Paul's comfort food. The taste is Paul's happiness, which lives in the cheese, which lives in the kitchen. The Damiano Center on Thursday. I have served soup at this center for twenty-some years. I know the regulars by name. I know the seasons of the crowd. I know that the first cold snap brings new faces. I know that the days after holidays bring the lonely ones. I know that the worst weeks of the year are not the ones that feel the worst — they are the ones in February when the cold has worn everyone down and the city has run out of tenderness. Paul would have liked this dinner. Paul would have liked this week. Paul would have liked this life. I tell him about it anyway. The telling is the keeping. I have been told, by a grief counselor, by friends, by my own children at certain anxious moments, that perhaps the constant tell-Paul thing is not healthy. I do not agree. I think it is exactly healthy. I think it is, in fact, the structural beam of my emotional architecture. The beam is solid. The house stands. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. The lake from the kitchen window has been doing what the lake does for as long as there has been a lake. The lake has carried fish and ships and the bodies of drowned sailors and the names of Ojibwe villages and the granite-cold of melted glaciers. The lake does not notice the lives along its shore. The lives notice the lake. That is the deal. That has always been the deal. It is enough.

The macaroni and cheese I made this week was Paul’s — his comfort food, his happiness baked into breadcrumbs and cheddar — and I wasn’t ready to share that recipe just yet, because some things belong to the kitchen and stay there. But the spirit of it, that idea of a creamy, from-scratch pasta that asks something of you and gives everything back, led me here: a Zucchini Zettuccine Carbonara that has the same soul as a dish you make because the house needs warmth. The dijon and the cheddar are mine; the egg and the Parmesan are this recipe’s answer. Both are acts of keeping.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 oz fettuccine or spaghetti
2 medium zucchini, spiralized or cut lengthwise into thin ribbons
4 oz pancetta or thick-cut bacon, diced
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp freshly cracked black pepper, plus more to taste
1/4 tsp kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
2 tbsp fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1/4 cup reserved pasta cooking water

Instructions

Prep the zucchini. Using a spiralizer, julienne peeler, or sharp knife, cut the zucchini into long, thin fettuccine-style ribbons. Set aside on a paper towel and blot lightly to remove excess moisture.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook fettuccine according to package directions until just al dente. Before draining, scoop out at least 1/4 cup of pasta cooking water and reserve. Drain the pasta.
Make the carbonara base. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, grated Parmesan, black pepper, and salt until smooth. Set aside at room temperature — do not refrigerate.
Render the pancetta. In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the pancetta or bacon until the fat has rendered and the pieces are lightly crisp, about 6–8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 30 seconds more, until fragrant. Do not drain the fat.
Add the zucchini. Add the zucchini ribbons to the skillet with the pancetta. Toss over medium heat for 2–3 minutes, just until the zucchini softens slightly but still holds its shape. Do not overcook.
Combine pasta and zucchini. Add the drained pasta directly to the skillet and toss everything together off the heat for 30 seconds to cool the pan slightly — this step is important to prevent scrambled eggs.
Finish with the egg mixture. Pour the egg and Parmesan mixture over the pasta and toss rapidly, adding reserved pasta water one tablespoon at a time, until the sauce becomes creamy and clings to every strand. The residual heat cooks the eggs into a silky sauce — work quickly and keep tossing.
Serve immediately. Divide among warm bowls. Top with extra Parmesan, a crack of black pepper, and fresh parsley. Serve right away; carbonara waits for no one.

Nutrition (per serving)

Zucchini (Zettuccine) Carbonara — The Comfort of a Creamy Bowl on a Paul Kind of Week