By Clara Rodrigues ( An Aspiring young Chef) Guest post
My name is Clara. I’m seventeen years old and from São Paulo, Brazil. Ever since I was little, I’ve loved helping my mom in the kitchen—peeling garlic, mixing cake batter, and watching her hands move like magic. One day, I told her, “Mãe, eu quero ser chef.” She just smiled and said, “Then cook with your heart, minha filha.”
This year, my parents decided to take us on a dream vacation to Italy. We had been saving up for years, and they thought it was the perfect time before I started culinary school. I couldn’t believe it—Italy! The land of pasta, pizza, gelato, and all the flavors I had only seen in books and YouTube videos.
Our plan was to visit Rome, Florence, and Venice over two weeks. I was beyond excited—not just for the sightseeing, but for the food. I wanted to taste everything, ask questions, take notes, and maybe, just maybe, learn a real Italian recipe from someone who lived there.
Rome: Where the Journey Began
We landed in Rome on a cool spring morning. The city was alive—loud scooters, ancient buildings, and the smell of bread and espresso on every corner. On our first night, we walked around the Trastevere neighborhood. It felt like something out of a movie: cobblestone streets, string lights, and locals chatting loudly at small restaurants.
We stopped at a little place called Trattoria dei Nonni. It didn’t look fancy, but the food smelled incredible. I ordered Spaghetti alla Carbonara. I had eaten it in Brazil before, but this… this was something else. It was creamy but without cream, full of flavor, with crispy pieces of meat and a peppery bite that made me close my eyes and say, “Nossa, que delícia.”
I asked the waiter what was in it. He laughed and said, “It’s simple—eggs, Pecorino, guanciale, pepper, and pasta. That’s it!” I was shocked. How could something so simple taste so magical?
He introduced me to the chef, Signor Gianni, an older man with a belly like a barrel and hands that looked like they had cooked for a hundred years. When I told him I wanted to be a chef, he gave me a warm smile and said, “You come tomorrow morning. I show you real Carbonara.”
I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept imagining myself in his kitchen, learning the secrets of real Italian food.
Learning the Real Carbonara
The next morning, I arrived at the trattoria wearing jeans, sneakers, and my hair tied up. I brought a notebook, a pen, and a big smile.
Signor Gianni handed me an apron and said, “Rule number one: no cream in Carbonara. Ever.” I laughed and nodded. In Brazil, a lot of people add cream to Carbonara. But this was different. This was real.
The Recipe I Learned: Spaghetti alla Carbonara
Here’s what he taught me, step by step:
Ingredients (for two servings):
- 200 grams of spaghetti (good quality, dried pasta)
- 100 grams of guanciale (Italian cured pork cheek; if not available, pancetta or thick bacon can be used)
- 2 egg yolks + 1 whole egg
- 50 grams of Pecorino Romano cheese (grated)
- Freshly ground black pepper
- Salt for pasta water
Instructions:
- Boil the Pasta:
Fill a large pot with water, add plenty of salt—“like the sea,” he said—and bring it to a boil. Cook the spaghetti until it’s al dente (firm to the bite), usually about 9–10 minutes. - Prepare the Guanciale:
While the pasta is cooking, cut the guanciale into small pieces or strips. In a large skillet, cook the guanciale over medium heat until it becomes golden and crispy. It will release its own fat, so you don’t need oil. - Make the Egg Mixture:
In a bowl, beat the two yolks and one whole egg. Add the grated Pecorino cheese and a generous amount of black pepper. Mix it into a thick, creamy paste. - Drain and Combine:
When the pasta is ready, reserve about half a cup of the cooking water. Drain the rest and quickly add the hot pasta to the skillet with the guanciale. Remove from heat. Stir well to coat the spaghetti in the fat. - Add the Egg Mixture:
Slowly add the egg and cheese mixture to the pasta, stirring fast so the eggs don’t scramble. Use a splash of the reserved pasta water to loosen the sauce if needed. The result should be a silky, glossy coating. - Serve:
Plate the pasta immediately and top with extra Pecorino and black pepper. Nothing else. No parsley, no cream, no garlic. Simplicity is the soul of this dish.
“Now you make it,” he said, stepping back.
My hands were shaking, but I followed every step. When I finally tasted my own Carbonara, I smiled. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. And I felt like a real chef for the first time in my life.
Florence: Art on the Walls, Art on the Plate
From Rome, we traveled to Florence. The city felt more quiet, more elegant. We visited the Uffizi Gallery and saw paintings that looked like they could talk. But the art I loved most was on my plate.
In Florence, I tried a dish called Pici Cacio e Pepe—thick hand-rolled pasta with a sauce made of cheese and pepper. So simple, yet so rich. We also tasted Bistecca alla Fiorentina, a huge grilled steak shared between the three of us. My dad was in heaven.
I took notes on every dish, every flavor. “Less is more” seemed to be the rule here, just like with Carbonara. I started to understand that Italian food isn’t about showing off—it’s about honoring each ingredient.
Venice: A City of Water and Seafood
Our final stop was Venice. Ah, Venice… so beautiful, so strange. The whole city moves on water. Boats instead of cars. Songs instead of horns.
Here, the food changed again. We ate Risotto al nero di seppia, made with squid ink—black and creamy. We tried sarde in saor, sweet and sour sardines with onions. I wasn’t sure I’d like them, but they surprised me.
Still, I kept thinking about Carbonara. I had fallen in love with it. Not just the taste, but the idea of it. A dish born from few ingredients, made with care and skill, passed from hand to hand.
Back Home in Brazil
When we got back to São Paulo, I couldn’t wait to make the Carbonara for my family. I found good Pecorino, used pancetta from a local butcher, and followed every step Gianni had taught me.
My mom took a bite, looked at me, and said, “Clara, você está pronta.”
I smiled. Maybe I’m not a real chef yet, but I’m on my way.
Now, whenever I make Carbonara, I think of Italy. I think of Gianni’s voice, the sound of scooters in Rome, the smell of Pecorino in the air. I think of the simplicity, the tradition, the love in each bite.
Tips I Learned from the Locals
- Use good eggs. The color and flavor matter. In Italy, yolks are deep yellow and full of richness.
- Pecorino Romano is stronger than Parmesan. Don’t substitute unless you have to.
- Don’t be afraid of black pepper. It’s not just seasoning—it’s a star ingredient.
- Carbonara should be creamy from the eggs, not from cream. That’s the rule.
Final Thoughts
Traveling to Italy changed the way I see food. It taught me that great cooking isn’t about complicated recipes. It’s about care, tradition, and letting the ingredients shine.
Carbonara is more than a pasta dish to me. It’s a memory, a lesson, a dream that became real. And one day, when I have my own restaurant, there will always be a Carbonara on the menu—made just like Gianni taught me, with heart and soul.
“Cozinhar é um ato de amor,” my mom says. Cooking is an act of love. And in Italy, I learned just how true that is.