Spaghetti, yolk, cheese, pork, pepper.
A classic Italian carbonara has these things in it, only these. American women add mushrooms, onions, cream, the ubiquitous English pea. The bold use butter. The insipid use milk. I overlook them all. Who needs vegetables? The simple communion of pork fat and egg yolks is perfect; more intimate and seductive and delightfully nasty than much of the sex one is likely to have in one’s life.
